


Saving Cardverse

by MyOwnCharacterInEverything



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse AU, Gen, I literally can't tag anything because everything is a spoiler, Multi, Other, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnCharacterInEverything/pseuds/MyOwnCharacterInEverything
Summary: ...the little bell above the wine shop door rang once more, but no one heard it over the sound of the door itself crashing open and slamming into the wall. And in the doorway stood Emil."Careful!" Lukas scolded his younger brother. "You'll break the door!"Mattias frowned. "Wait, aren't you still supposed to be in class?"Emil ignored them all and instead shot Lukas a significant look of pure dread. Now, Lukas's face had a tendency not to show emotion, but that didn't mean his insides weren't twisting in fear. Because there was only one thing that could possibly make Emil panic like this.(The Shadow has finally crossed over. It’s time to break the spell...)And Lukas absolutely dreaded the aftermath of the broken spell. After all, to break the spell was reveal himself to be a liar..."Lukas?" Berwald's voice cut in. "You okay?"Lukas could focus only on Emil. "What happened?" he asked, sounding far calmer than he felt. At least Lukas had braced himself; little did the other Nordics know that Emil's words would carry the news that would change their lives forever."Sir Arthur Kirkland is dead."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a new work whatsoever. It's been at least a year, and I'd like to think my writing has evolved since this first chapter here. But I never uploaded it to this account, even though it's already on my FanFiction and my tumblr. I thought it was time I fixed that. So without further ado, welcome to the Four Kingdoms of Kartoj.

“Of course, no one  _ really _ cares how it all starts. All anyone ever cares about is how it all ends.”

“Now that’s bleak outlook on life, if I’ve ever heard one.”

The Norwegian turned to glare at the Danish merchant. As always, the Dane was completely oblivious to the irritation of his conversational partner. Not for the first time, the Norwegian wondered if Mattias was really as dense as he acted.

“But why are we talking about depressing stuff anyway?” the ever-happy Mattias continued. “Today’s supposed to be a happy day! Well, a happy week...”

The Norwegian stared at him.  _ Right. Today is the Diamond Queen’s birthday. And since the Diamond King’s birthday is two days after hers, they usually just celebrate for the whole week. _

“I just think His Majesty spends too much, especially on this week," the Norwegian grumbled through a last mouthful of Danish pastry, tossing a crumpled napkin into the trash. "Diamonds are so annoying, insisting on all these stupid parties and inviting all those stupid people…”

Mattias only snickered. “Oh Lukas, you just hate talking to strangers. That’s all.”

Lukas ignored that. “You better get back to work, then. The Diamond King will be expecting his large order soon.”

Mattias laughed outright this time. “You have one track mind! Loosen up, man. Besides, I can’t really do anything until Waldo brings in the barrels for the wine.”

At that, the little bell above the wine shop door rang, and in came Timo. The bouncing Finnish man grinned at his fellow Nordics, with little Kukkamuna scurrying around his ankles. The tiny puppy was yapping happily like the adorable little white fluffball she was, and even stone-faced Lukas cracked a small smile and crouched down to scratch her ears.

"Hello, Mattias! Good morning, Lord Steilsson!" Timo chirped. Kukkamuna yapped again, almost as if she was greeting them as well.

Mattias chuckled. "Good morning to you too, Kukka. It's good to see both you and Timo on such a lovely morning."

Timo smiled. "She's such a cute little thing, isn't she?" The Finn was such a proud mama sometimes...

"She is..." Lukas agreed. "But Timo, I thought I told you to call me Lukas. We have known each other for five years, after all."

"Oh come on, Lukas," Mattias interjected. "This is  _ Timo _ we're talking about here. I mean, he still calls Waldo 'Mr. Ber.' And he's  _ married _ to the guy."

Timo blushed. "Well, I'm just giving my husband the respect I think he deserves for taking care of me," he said softly, toeing the ground with a lovesick smile on his face. His fingers ran absentmindedly over the words on his wrist.  _ I’m glad you found your dog _ , they said. Lukas knew they perfectly matched the words on Berwald’s wrist:  _ Excuse me, but have you seen my dog? _

Everyone was born with words on their wrists: words that apparently were the first things that their soulmate would say to them. For both Timo and Berwald, the words were red, which meant that they both had already found their soulmates. Meanwhile, everyone with single lonely black tattoos either dreaded or prayed for or were simply terrified of the coming the day that their black tattoos would turn that bright scarlet red.

Lukas thought of the whole thing as really cliché, but he was too polite to roll his eyes at the lovestruck Timo, so he simply continued to scratch Kukkamuna's ears instead. Now if Lukas wasn’t already such a liar, he would admit to himself that he was jealous. Timo had found his soulmate, something that Lukas wished for himself. He glanced at the sleeve that covered his own wrist and sighed. He could not get married. Not yet. Not now. Not when he was like this…

"Oh!" Timo interrupted Lukas's inner monologue. "I wanted to tell you, Mattias: Mr. Ber finished making the barrels for your order. He's bringing them in now."

As if on cue, the bell above the wine shop door rang again, and a tall Swedish man stuck his head in. Lukas stood up as the little fluffball he had been petting darted to greet her giant master.

"Mattias, could you help me with the barrels?" Berwald asked in his signature low rough voice as he bent down to pick up a happily wiggling Kukkamuna. "I'm not really sure where you want me to put them." The Swede’s words were short and choppy, and sometimes you couldn’t hear every part of the word. English was the unofficial universal tongue in the kingdom of Kartoj since its citizens came from everywhere, and Berwald’s English still wasn’t that great. He was steadily improving though, especially thanks to his adorable Finnish tutor-"wife."

Lukas cut Mattias a look. "What you were saying about not being able to work?"

Mattias laughed. "Whatever. I'm coming out now then, Waldo."

Berwald frowned, scratching Kukkamuna’s ears. "Don't call me that..."

Now, at this point, the little bell above the wine shop door rang once more, but no one heard it over the sound of the door itself crashing open and slamming into the wall. And in the doorway stood Emil.

"Careful!" Lukas scolded his younger brother. "You'll break the door!"

Mattias frowned. "Wait, aren't you still supposed to be in class?"

Emil ignored them all and instead shot Lukas a significant look of pure dread. Now, Lukas's face had a tendency not to show emotion, but that didn't mean his insides weren't twisting in fear. Because there was only one thing that could possibly make Emil panic like this.

_ The Shadow has finally crossed over. It’s time to break the spell... _

And Lukas absolutely dreaded the aftermath of the broken spell. After all, to break the spell was reveal himself to be a liar...

"Lukas?" Berwald's voice cut in. "You okay?"

Lukas could focus only on Emil. "What happened?" he asked, sounding far calmer than he felt. At least Lukas had braced himself; little did the other Nordics know that Emil's words would carry the news that would change their lives forever.

"Sir Arthur Kirkland is dead."

* * *

 

As she expected, she woke up naked. She had not expected, however, that she would wake up  _ here _ . Not that it was a bad place to be—after all, the Diamond Castle was known for its perfect rose garden—but the Diamond King would be taking his afternoon walk through here very soon. Quickly fixing her glasses onto her face, she glanced around to make sure she was alone—which she was. As for getting out of here, she knew how to evade the guards, how to get to the Diamond Castle, how to climb up the wall and break into the King’s infamous  _ Room _ …

By George, she spent  _ way _ too much time pulling pranks on the his Majesty.

In a smooth experienced move, she pulled herself onto the balcony, and for a moment, she admired the view. She supposed the view would have been romantic if she didn’t know that the view was presented for less dignified reasons than simple admiration. It was a pity, really, but she supposed that was to be expected from a Frenchman. Sighing, she slowly slid the door open and slipped silently into the infamous  _ Room _ , shuddering slightly at the thought of being in there barefoot. 

_ Idiot didn’t lock his doors again _ … But she wasn’t here to critique Diamond security. She was here to grab some clothes. Now, she knew—from being in this infamous  _ Room _ far too many times, and never for the reason the King probably wished she was in her for—that the King typically kept sets of female costumes in a secret Closet behind the mirror. The Diamond King had a  _ certain kind _ of reputation, and she knew perfectly well what the costumes were for. Her old self wouldn't be caught dead wearing something from there, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Not that she, of all people, was  _ desperate _ or anything, but still.

She wasn’t exactly sure  _ what _ to expect from the Closet, but there was a disturbing about of ladies’ footwear. Mostly heels, of course, but there even sandals and flats.  _ What was wrong with this guy?  _ Right, he was French _. _ She shook her head and decided to start sifting through the clothes instead. She noticed that a lot of the ones towards the front—the silk nightgowns, the lace corsets, the teddies—had small tears and looked like they had been through quite a lot. Of course, the normal eye didn’t see anything, but her mother had been a seamstress, and she herself embroidered for fun. The point was, she knew worn fabric when she saw it.

But in the back of the Closet, she found a box. And as she rifled through the box, she realised that the costumes in the box  _ weren’t _ worn and torn. Most of them, in fact, still had creases or price stickers on them. But the costumes themselves… Most of them weren’t even that bad. In fact, she would probably wear most of them out in public. (Well, her old self wouldn’t, but she was sick of refined behaviour, and her inner rebel screamed to be free again.) A police uniform, two nurse’s outfits… God help her, was that a leather  _ catsuit _ ? Complete with a whip, how adorable. Alongside the whip were handcuffs, blindfolds… And if she had  _ one iota _ of intelligence, she would  _ not  _ dig any further. 

In the end, she took the more old-fashioned of the two nurse’s outfits. The thing was basically a longsleeved blue dress with an apron over it. Tying the black ribbon around her neck, she decided it might not be a bad idea to put  _ everything _ on, even the ridiculous hat. After all, the Diamonds were partying all week, and it was tradition to wear costumes anyway. But what concerned her the most was the fact that in the connecting bathroom, where she tied up her hair into two pigtails, there was a box of bobby pins, ladies’ shaving cream, some pantyhose… Was that a box of—?

She was pinning the last of her bangs into place when she heard commotion outside. Not outside in the hallway, but outside the balcony. Peeking through the window carefully—although no one would think to look up  _ here _ —she saw that everyone was swarming the gardens. Guards, servants, and there was the Queen of Diamonds herself, with her older brother, the Jack of Diamonds, being overprotective as always… And she almost felt bad for the Queen; this whole mess was happening on the poor girl's birthday. But at least everyone was so occupied with what was in the back that no one would try to stop her from going through the front. But as she scurried through the hallways, the question ate away at her:

_ How would they explain what they found in the garden? _

She shook her head. She couldn't worry about that right now. But at last she saw the main entrance. She hadn’t run into anyone, and she was almost home free! But of course, as is the case with anything far too easy, there were two figures in the doorway,  _ blocking her way to freedom _ —

The two figures were speaking in low rapid French. Or rather one of them was, the other didn't seem to be in the mood to talk. But everyone in the Diamond Palace was French—or, at the very least, fluent in the language—out of necessity. The Diamond King, after all, had earned the nickname "the French King" from his apparent refusal to use English. Fortunately for our daring escapee, her French was perfect. She refused to actually say anything in it, of course, but she could translate everything in her head. Like what these two figures were saying:

“ _ You really  _ **_do_ ** _ look stressed, my lord _ ,” the more talkative of the figures said. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a servant girl. A  _ French _ servant girl, no less, batting her vapid and insipid little lashes at—

Her breath caught. It was the King of Diamonds.

_ God in Heaven, why him? Why me? And why now? _

“ _ Merci _ , Olivette,” the French King muttered back politely. It was clear that he was too stressed to flirt or even converse as politely as he normally would. Was he that upset that he couldn't take his usual afternoon walk because of the people in the garden?

" _ You ought to have someone... _ **_relieve_ ** _ all that stress... _ " the servant girl continued in French, her tone turning suggestive. Olivette reached for the King's arm, which was crossed over his chest. The other arm—or rather, his hand—was covered his face. The King made no move away from the servant, perhaps because he wasn't really paying any attention to her at all. And suddenly, our daring escapee was mad at this little servant girl. He was clearly upset, and all this...this  _ wench  _ could think of was the bedroom?!

_ First of all, how unprofessional; that is your  _ **_boss_ ** _. And second of all, he is your King! Not some random stableboy for you to seduce with the look in your eyes! Honestly, if you’re going to pick someone to tumble in the hay with, at least pick someone on your level. Do you honestly think that lowly of your  _ **_King_ ** _?! _

She could not stand for this insolence any longer. Now, in all her anger, she was conscious of the fact that this was not her kingdom, and it was hardly her place to assume what the King wanted for himself. After all, he was French, so perhaps he did want comfort in someone’s arms. But as  _ French _ as the King was, even  _ he  _ knew that there were certain images that needed to be upheld. Even  _ he _ knew embracing such a comfort would not be good, not for his state of mind nor the state of the kingdom. After all, how would people react if he was dallying with servant girls in a time of crisis? But he really wasn’t paying attention, so, recognising a need for intervention while keeping her own place in mind, she did the only thing her current station would allow.

She interrupted. In  _ English _ , no less: the very language the French King  _ despised _ .

And since it was the ladies' man Diamond King, she decided to be snooty. (After all, women were  _ never  _ snooty with him; they were usually too busy melting into a giggling mess. So  _ that’ll _ show him.) She walked briskly toward the pair, and not sparing him a glance but still addressing him, she walked right in between the would-be lovers.

“I’ll just leave you two to flirt then,” she said nonchalantly, keeping up her brisk pace. And with the moment gone, the servant girl turned an embarrassed shade of red, probably out of fear from being reported. The King on the other hand…

“ _ Hey, wait a second! _ ” he called after her in French, the servant girl all but forgotten. At this point, our daring escapee was halfway across the bridge over the moat. (Well, these days, it was more of a pond that went all the way around the castle, but whatever.) But she heard running footsteps behind her! Great, she wasn’t expecting the King to try and follow her... Oh well, either way, he didn’t get very far. Now she wasn’t exactly sure what happened, but suddenly the footsteps stopped. There was a startled cry, a splash, and—

When she turned around, the typically dignified King of Diamonds was in the moat, and he had somehow managed to surface with a lilypad on his head. An indignant frog leaped off of the lilypad on his head, splashing water into the French King’s face. The servant girl was panicking, screaming in French and asking if "her" Lord was okay, but she may as well not have even been present at all. Because the King was not staring at the servant girl; he was staring at  _ her _ . And she was staring right back at him.

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Francis Bonnefoy, King of Diamonds, was a beautiful man, even if he was French. His hair was often compared to gold silk. He had an eerily good fashion sense and was notorious for being so impeccably dressed. In fact, he had sisters and an adopted cousin that ran a boutique in the city that sold clothes that he designed himself. The point was, though, that Francis Bonnefoy was never less than perfect in the looks department. And so when she saw him: sitting there, in the water, with soaked clothes, algae in his hair, said hair over his eyes,  _ that lilypad on his head _ …  _ By God, was he  _ **_blushing_ ** _?! He  _ **_never_ ** _ blushes. _

She had a most unusual reaction to His Highness indeed. It was almost as if she could not help herself. She felt certain muscles, ones she had thought long since dormant, beginning to twitch. More specifically, the corners of her lips curled slightly upward. Suddenly, she was smiling. Then she was grinning. Then a snicker escaped her lips, and although she clapped a hand over her mouth, she couldn’t take it anymore. She lost it, dropping her hand and doubling over, doing things she never thought she would again. She was laughing; she was crying; she was snorting terribly. She choking and gasping trying to breathe… 

And that was how she left the Diamond palace: her tear-stained face split into a grin, and she walked briskly forward, smiling and laughing softly to herself.

* * *

 

_ The Shadow has finally crossed over. It’s time to break the spell. _

Great. Just great. And here Vasile was thinking that he could just sit back and relax, waiting for the phone call that the Queen of Diamonds wanted her daily literature lesson. Oh sure, the Romanian didn’t exactly  _ want _ to go, but a job was a job. Still. All the palace people always gave him weird looks… Maybe it was the eyes? Or the teeth? Geez, why couldn’t people just accept that this was how he normally dressed? (Well, normal as a half-vampire with magical powers could be.) Either way, Vasile was hoping for an at least  _ somewhat _ normal evening. But no. Queen Elise had canceled her lesson today—or rather, her brother the Jack did. Because Sir Arthur Kirkland, the Queen of Spades, had died this morning.

_ Great. One down, six to go. _

Of course, he had heard all of the rumours surrounding the Spade Queen’s death. He had been arguing with the King of Diamonds (in Spanish. Sir Kirkland refused to use French, and King Francis refused to use English. So Spanish it was.) It was a perfectly normal behaviour for the two of them, and then Sir Kirkland had stormed out of the room. Of course, the French King thought nothing of it until he didn’t come back for an hour. Normally, Sir Kirkland always came back within the next ten minutes to reassert his point, or at the very least, Sir Kirkland came back to tell the King he was sick of him and that he was going home. But not this time. And so, when King Francis Bonnefoy set out to find Sir Kirkland… Actually, the King never found him. Instead, there was nothing more than a bloody sword atop a pile of clothing.  _ Sir Kirkland’s  _ clothing…

Of course, the normally peaceful kingdom of Kartoj was thrown into absolute chaos. The King of Spades and his Jack were rightfully distressed, but their public statements were slightly shocking. Or rather, the King’s statement was. King Alfred F. Jones, a recently graduated Academy prodigy, was known for his childish demeanor and sneaking out of the palace to play basketball with peasant children at least once a week. But on today’s TV news, he was without his usual million dollar grin and loud, loud laugh. Instead, his posture was straight—he was also notorious for slouching—and he seemed surprisingly mature. He was also surprisingly rational about the whole thing, stating that he did not blame anyone in the Diamond Kingdom for his Queen’s disappearance.

That’s right, King Alfred only believed his Queen  _ missing _ , not  _ dead _ . He had pointed out that no body had been found, and all evidence had been quite circumstantial. He also stated that he did not wish to attack the Diamonds, but he did wish to speak with King Francis. Of course, the King of Diamonds had conceded. King Francis didn’t want war either, and he was willing to tell King Alfred everything he knew…

A knock on the door interrupted Vasile’s thoughts. (It was about 5:30 AM. He was still awake because as a half-vampire, he didn’t need as much sleep as a true human.) Peeking through the peephole, he saw a girl in long pigtails and— _ Was that an old-fashioned nurse’s dress? _ He didn’t recognise her right away; he hadn’t seen her like this in about five years.

When he  _ did _ recognise her… Well, he didn’t think she’d be showing up so soon, but then again, it  _ was _ time. And so Vasile opened the door and stepped aside. His apartment was dark and a little messy, but he knew she had a basement just like it. It was only this that stopped him from feeling self-conscious over having a girl over at his place.

“Great,” he said to her, closing the door. Any other girl, and he might have bothered with a proper greeting. Or a flustered attempt to clean his apartment. “Now all we need is—”

The door flung open again, smacking Vasile into the wall.

“I’m here,” Lukas gracefully stepped through the doorway. He frowned. “Where’s Vasile?”

“Right here,” Vasile groaned out from behind the door, rubbing his nose. “My head…”

“Good going, Lukas,” Emil said, rolling his eyes. “But I still don’t get why I have to be here. I mean, I told you I was cool with all this magic mumbo-jumbo, but I didn’t really want to get involved.  _ Especially _ not at this un _ godly _ hour in the morning…”

Lukas was about to scold his brother for being so rude when the girl stepped out of the shadows. Emil’s jaw dropped, glancing at Lukas speechlessly.

A rare smile graced Lukas's face as he moved to stand in front of her, bowing slightly. “Hello, Your Majesty.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Emil stammered. “You’re…”

“Rose Kirkland,” the girl repeated. “But you knew me as Sir Arthur Kirkland.”

Emil shook his head in wonder.

“Lukas…” he whispered. “I thought you were the only one…”

“I’m not,” Lukas admitted. “But only Rose, Vasile and I can actively channel our energy into magic. The others are different: disguised as boys, but they don't seem to be capable of channeling anything. They're just cut off from their natural… _ enhancements _ .”

Emil couldn’t even make his usual snarky comment. He swallowed deeply. "How many girls…"

"Including Lukas and me there were five in total," Rose replied. "Each of us had a reason, but it didn’t help that there were rumours of people hunting us down, calling us witches…" Rose couldn't choke out the rest of the words.

Vasile took over. "It used to be that Kartoj’s girls typically had extraordinary talents, but at some point in history, the men decided that it was insulting that girls were more powerful than they were. So the use of powers was banned unless they got married, and usually what happened when men found out their wives had powers was they divorced and… Well, there’s a reason most of the girls in Kartoj moved out of the country.

“And so, the population ended up being mostly male. That’s why these days ‘Queen’ is more of a position or title than an actual marriage to the King. There hasn’t been a Queen married to the King in generations. Even now, the only position that girls inherit is Queen.”

Emil frowned. “But Rose got Queen. Why did she have to change her gender?”

“Emil!” Lukas scolded.

“It’s okay, Lukas,” Rose responded. “After my mother died, my father hated girls. Oh, he never laid a hand on me, but he would scream and throw things. Even at my brothers’ girlfriends. Even my cousin Sinead, and sometimes even her brother Seamus… And so I cast a memory spell on my whole family. They think I’ve always been a boy named Arthur Kirkland…”

Emil's eyebrows shot up. "Even Peter?"

Rose shook her head. "He was four. Too young to really remember me as anyone other than Arthur. I was sixteen when I came here and left him in Academy care. I regret it sometimes, leaving him. But I promise: the Academy was far better than anything at home.” She sighed. “I'm still going to have to tell him the whole story… I hope he’ll forgive me…"

Vasile gave a low whistle. “I’m sorry…”

Rose shook her head. “It’s fine. I mean, there are days when I feel bad for lying to all my other siblings, but they’ve have written to tell me they’ve all moved out of my father’s house in London, so now they live in various parts of the British Isles. Alastair in Scotland, Dylan in Wales, Seamus in Northern Ireland… Sinead moved too, to the Republic of Ireland. Which is good…”

Lukas frowned. “But now you’re back to your original gender. How are you going to explain that you’ve actually been a girl this whole time?”

“Ah, well, I tied the memory spell on my siblings with my gender spell, so they’re supposed to start remembering when my gender switches back. I’m hoping that when they remember that I’m a girl, they’ll all also remember that I asked them all for their consent before I cast the spell. They all knew the consequences, the weight of the decision. I’m just hoping that’s one of the  _ first _ things they remember…

“But enough about me. How about you?” Rose asked, turning to Lukas.

Lukas smiled grimly. “Well, long story short, my father slept around a lot. In fact, King Ivan of the Clubs is his only legitimate child. That’s why he’s King. All of his other children are now simply Lords and Ladies."

Vasile blinked. "Wait,  _ that's  _ why you're a Lord, Steilsson? Because King Grigori was your dad?"

"Unfortunately," he sighed. "Of course, I’d still technically be a Lord because my mother married my father's cousin Lord Harald. I was very young, but I remember how my mother used to cry, and then how happy she became when she met Harald…"

Emil nodded. "Then I was born. My father adopted and raised Lukas, but then…"

Lukas gave his brother a rare look of sympathy, taking over the story once more. "Then one day, they both just...died. Of course, I was upset about this at the time, but I got even more upset when I, as a girl, could not claim Lord Harald's property. Even now, only men can truly inherit fortunes. But Lord Harald raised me and was a father to me. The least I could do was switch my gender to keep my biological father from inheriting his cousin's fortune…"

Vasile nodded. "While we're all sharing stories... I mentioned earlier that only some of us are actually capable of channeling magic? My mother was one of those people. And so when I, as her only child, showed signs of such a talent, she taught me all that she could. And it turns out that despite being a boy, I can still cast spells because I'm half-vampire. Something about the venom enhancing my mother's inherently magical genes, I don't know. Romania has some weird creatures, that's for sure."

And the Romanian would have kept going had there not been a terrible howling outside.

"What was that?" Emil squeaked.

Rose took charge, squaring her shoulders like the Queen she was. "Everyone head outside NOW!"

* * *

 

And that's how Emil ended up sprinting through the parking lot.

"What  _ is  _ that thing?!" he shrieked over the noise of the shadowy Beast chasing them.

"It's the thing that killed me!" he heard Rose holler back.

" _ What?! _ " But if Rose answered Emil, it was lost to the shrieks of the creature. By the way, said creature looked like a shadowy bear, only it never seemed to stand up on its own hind legs. Emil was thankful for that; the thing was tall enough as it was: its shoulders taller than he was. Emil hated bears…

_ You will fall by the hand of what almost had you once before _ .

Suddenly, an arm darted out of an alleyway and grabbed Emil by the collar, shoving him into-

Lukas's hand clapped over Emil's mouth before Emil could yell his brother's name. Lukas shook his head, mouthing that Emil should be quiet. Before long, Vasile dropped down behind Lukas from above.  _ Wait, were those  _ **_bat wings_ ** _?! _

"Okay, so Rose is distracting that thing right now." Vasile whispered. "There's not a lot of time, so listen up Emil, 'cuz here's what's gotta happen." And when Emil heard the plan, he was incredulous.

"Are you serious?!" he hissed.

Vasile nodded gravely, then turned to Lukas. “Now, how ever you decide to do it, do it fast. Rose and I can distract it, but it's not going to be too long before someone wakes up and runs out to this abandoned apartment complex." He sighed, almost in sad reminiscence. “There are always witnesses somewhere…”

Emil must have still looked skeptical because Vaslie looked at him again with an understanding look on his face. "I'm sorry, Emil. I know it'll be hard for you to let this happen, but…  _ This  _ is the only way to hurt them.”

And with that, Vasile spread out his wings and flew out to meet the Beast. And Emil watched as Rose stared at a manhole cover ten feet away from her. The manhole cover was ripped from its place and shot towards the Beast, effectively knocking it in the forehead. The Beast gave an angry roar. Shaking its head, it charged toward Rose. Fortunately, a winged figured swooped down and straddled its back. It was Vasile, wrapping his arms around the Beast’s neck in an effort to restrain it. Emil watched as the Beast began thrashing in an effort to get him off, but Vasile’s grip held. Meanwhile, Rose stared at a pile of bricks, and the bricks rose up and hurled themselves at the Beast with deadly speed and precision.

Now, Emil may have been watching the battle this whole time, but he hadn’t been standing still. He was scrambling after his brother, who was going to throw himself at the giant nightmarish bear-Beast-thing.

Seems suicidal, right? Well, yes. It was. But that was the point.

_ Your nightmares will only end in Death. _

Emil would vehemently deny this later, but before they made their final move, he grabbed Lukas's hand.

"I don't want you to do this..." he squeaked. In a manly way, of course. He wasn't scared or pathetic at all.

Lukas squeezed his hand back. "If it's any comfort, I don't want to do this either. But at least… This is how I wanted it to be."

The Beast roared again, and Emil could feel it: his brother's time had come.

"I wanted us," Lukas continued, "to do it the way this all began."

"How it all began?" Emil asked. He would vehemently deny it later, but 

"With me protecting you."

And as Lukas shoved him behind a wall and threw himself in front of the Beast, all that Emil remembered was its claws. A silvery object flying out of Lukas’s hair. A bright light. The phantom sensation of Lukas’s tight grip lingering from seconds before. And then…

Nothing.

* * *

 

With slitted eyes and a dry mouth, a groaning and groggy Norwegian sat up on the bed. The sun was gently shining through the thin pink curtains over the two windows. The room itself was quite homey, with its plain cream walls and a soft rug that covered most of the tiled floor. Cozy as it was though, it was still kind of a boarding school dorm room. Seeing that there was no one else in the room, the Norwegian took the opportunity to examine everything else. Looking down, the Norwegian could see unbelievably long blonde hair and…well,  _ certain _ chest parts. Yes, it was official: the Norwegian was a girl once more.

Her thoughts stopped with a sudden realisation. Where was—?

“Well, you’re finally awake,” a voice said. She turned to see a boy with silvery blonde hair, holding some spare clothes and seemingly trying to avoid looking at her.

_ My little brother _ . He must have come in while she was distracted.

“Good morning to you too, Emil,” the Norwegian replied, noting the newly recovered female voice.

Emil said nothing for awhile, and then she realized that he wasn’t looking at her because…well, she still was naked.  _ Oh right, waking up naked was one of the side effects of the reversion back to female. _ She decided to have mercy on her brother by taking the clothes. Emil shyly walked over and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping his gaze turned and saying nothing as she dressed.

“I don’t even know what to call you anymore, sister,” Emil finally broke the silence. “God, does it feel good to say that…”

The Norwegian blinked. “Is  _ that _ why you never called Lukas ‘Big Brother’?”

The embarrassed blush was the only response needed, and she had to suppress a smile. Really, even though her own physical appearance had changed so much, her brother was still the same embarrassed little person.

She decided to spare him some embarrassment by changing the subject. “Well, I suppose my name does pose a bit of a problem. When Lord Harald was still alive, they would always call me ‘Harald’s little shadow’ because I wanted to be just like him. So I was literally ‘Little Harald.’ I don’t even remember my real name, to be honest. I was so young.”

Emil looked thoughtful. “I think I’ll call you Halle.”

“Halle?”

“Well, Halle was actually a boy’s name, seeing as it was a diminutive of Harald. But since people these days use it as a girl’s name…” Emil looked quite embarrassed now.

“Halle,” she said softly, trying out her new name. She gave Emil a small, rare smile. “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Then she realised something. "Where  _ are _ we?"

"We're at the Academy. I think this is one of the girls' rooms."

Ah, the Academy. Most of the Kartojian nobles had graduated from here, even Halle herself. (Emil was still a senior, but he didn’t live on campus.)

Students were recruited from all over the world, including one child from each of the States and U.S. territories, as well as, so they say, even micronations. The kids were well-educated: horseback riding and etiquette were only a few of the standard classes. But it was the 56 American kids that terrified some people. Rumour was they called each other by their state or territory names. They were all terrible rivals with each other, but they would not hesitate to beat up any outsider if one of them was crossed.

But fear was an understandable reaction: these kids were all on the brutal Castle Servant track. They  _ had  _ to be proficient in everything: from cooking to bartending to dancing to music to languages… And especially in being on the defensive: fencing, knife-throwing, archery, shooting guns, surveillance, countersurveillance, hand-to-hand combat, strategy. Its strict program was currently run by the devil-may-care Gilbert Beilschmidt: notorious for drinking and screaming at parties, but boy, could he whip a kid into shape! But Halle supposed that’s what happens when one grew up under the legendary General Alaric Beilschmidt…

"It's my room," came a soft Southern accent from the door. Standing there was a young teenage girl.  _ This must be the student whose room I’m in _ . “I’m Georgia, by the way.” Ah. She would be one of the Americans on the Castle servant track. Halle could tell by the alert stance and watchful eyes. As casual as teenagers were… Some habits aren’t easy to drop. Halle knew that from experience.

Halle blinked. "I'm sorry I kicked you out of your own room. I—"

"Naw, it's fine, milady,” the girl said, waving it off while also bowing awkwardly. Like she wasn’t sure whether she had to be formal or not.

“In fact,” Georgia continued, “the only reason I’m up here is tell you that Mama is inviting both of you to breakfast.” Then the girl left, leaving Emil and Halle in the room.

Halle blinked. "Mama?" She didn’t expect such a soft word from such a tough girl.

"I'll explain that one later," Emil replied. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, now, breakfast. By the way, I’m pretty sure that Rose and Vasile are downstairs too, waiting to see how you're doing. So, shall we?”

* * *

 

Mattias was not a man known for crying. In fact, his cousin Berwald was often telling him that he was too gosh-darn happy all the gosh-darn time. But Mattias never thought much of that because first of all, Berwald’s face was stuck in a frown, and he was also oh-so-serious. But second of all, Mattias was pretty sure that the happiest he had ever seen Berwald was when he married Timo. Or was with Timo in general. But still! Berwald had always kind of a buzzkill, so what did he know?

But then again, it wasn’t just Berwald who thought that way. Lukas also told Mattias that he was way too happy. But maybe that had something to do with the fact that he had dragged Lukas out of bed so they could watch the sunrise together. (Mattias had always been a morning person.) Lukas was grumpy the whole hike up, but he seemed to calm down when Mattias gave him a thermos full of coffee. (Black, just the way Lukas liked it.) After the caffeine settled in, Lukas settled back into his super-serious, super-quiet self. (Mattias also had the foresight to bring another thermos full of decaf. Lukas hated regular after the morning boost.)

But _ Lukas. _ He hadn’t come into the shop at 9:37 this morning, and even now, at noon, Lukas’s daily Danish pastry and coffee sat untouched on the counter. He had always claimed he came for only for his free breakfast, but he’d always eat slowly and sometimes stay to even after he had finished. He had always insulted the Dane, but Mattias, despite his lack of social finesse, had understood the insults as Lukas's way of showing affection. And just when Mattias thought that he had finally gotten under the Norwegian’s skin…

_ He was gone _ . Now, Mattias knew that Lukas wasn’t sick, because Lukas was just fine yesterday. (Lukas was the kind of person that would keep working through coughing and stuffy noses and would clearly be sick for at least a week or two. Then one day, he would wake up, and his body would just be so weak that he can’t even get out of bed.) Besides, if Lukas was sick, Emil would have come in before his classes, saying he wanted to pick up his brother’s breakfast, resulting in Mattias insisting that he bring it to Lukas himself. Of course, Lukas would feebly hit him with shaky fists for leaving his store and going through all this trouble by coming all this way, but Mattias always understood, on some fundamental level, that Lukas was still glad to see him. Or maybe he was too sleepy and feverish to argue or kick him out of the apartment.

But no.  _ Lukas was gone _ . This morning, the Ace of Diamonds had came into Mattias’s shop. Now, Bram Van Dijk was actually a good friend of Mattias’s; the two had actually been Academy roommates. But as grumpy as the Dutchman usually was, Mattias had never seen him so stressed, not even during finals or when he was about to propose to his—now very,  _ very _ pregnant wife—Rochelle.

“Whoa, what’s eating you?” Mattias asked, wordlessly pouring some of his best beer and sliding the stein to his old friend. The grateful look on Bram’s face reassured Mattias that he had done the right thing, which was comforting. When it came to constantly angry people in his life—namely Lukas, Emil, and even Berwald—Mattias always felt like he was screwing up and pushing them away.

Bram downed half the stein before putting it down and taking a deep breath. “Mattias…” he hesitated. “...when was the last time you saw Lord Steilsson?”

It took Mattias a few seconds to realise that Bram was talking about Lukas. Mattias had always treated the Norwegian like a normal guy, so he often forgot that Lukas was a person of societal importance.

_ And therefore, too good to hang out with a nobody like me. _

“Um…yesterday?” Mattias replied. “He was eating his daily Danish with his coffee, Berwald and Timo and their dog dropped by…”  _ But why was Bram asking? _

Bram nodded his reply: his face twisted into a pensive frown. “Is that it?”

Mattias frowned back. “Well, Emil—er, Lord Steilsson’s brother—”

“Yes, yes, I knew that.”

“...right. Yes. Well, Emil burst in and told us about Sir Kirkland...and that was it. After grilling Emil over everything he knew, Lukas dragged him out. I couldn’t exactly worry about them too much; I had to handle the Diamond King’s wine order, but…”

"But?" Bram prodded. By now, there was a quarter of the beer stein left.

"...I don't know. They seemed... panicked about Sir Kirkland's death. Like it was a sign something bad was going to happen." Mattias  _ really  _ didn't like where this was going...

"And maybe it was," Bram sighed, downing the rest of the beer in one stressed swig. "Because Mattias... You might want to sit down for this..."

Mattias thought that was a little dramatic, but since Bram wasn’t really the joking type, he sat. Now, Mattias, contrary to popular belief, wasn't stupid; he just kept a lot of his observations to himself. But there was one thing he could  _ not _ stay silent about...

"You don't think that Lukas and Emil  _ killed _ Sir Kirkland, do you?!" Mattias squeaked.

Bram hesitated for a second, and that was all the answer Mattias needed. To jump to conclusions, that is.

Mattias was prepared to rant. "I can't believe you thought—"

"I  _ used _ to think that!" Bram snapped, and Mattias knew that that tone meant he should shut up.

Only he didn't. (Luckily, Bram knew he wouldn't, so Mattias didn't get strangled. Today, at least.)

"... _ used _ to?" Mattias asked, in a far softer voice that most people wouldn't believed he was capable of producing.

"Yes, used to. Because I thought the theory was quite plausible, until this morning."

For the first time in forever, Mattias was speechless, so he could only motion for Bram to continue. Not that he really didn’t know what to expect: only that he probably wouldn’t like it.

"This morning," Bram continued, "a local garbage man was cleaning out the old dumpsters by the abandoned apartment complex. And he found…well…"

Mattias was gesturing again, and Bram took a deep breath.

"There were clothes. Bloodstained clothes. They were shredded quite a bit, of course, but we have reason to believe that they belonged to Lukas."

The sudden switch to Lukas's first name did not go unnoticed. "...how?"

Bram knew what he was asking, so he pulled out a small silver object, gingerly handing it to Mattias.

Mattias knew what it was before he was holding it. Feeling it. Staring at it. Still staring at it.

It was Lukas's cross pin.

And he held it in his palm as gently as he would have held Lukas's hand. As gently as he would have cradled Lukas's tired head, and as gently as he would have brushed the hair out of Lukas's eyes. (His hair  _ had _ to have been falling in his face now that he didn't have his pin…)

Mattias wasn't stupid. He knew from the minute he saw the Norwegian that his life was forever changed. Lukas was more beautiful than any man or woman or human being, prettier than anything or anyone that he had ever encountered before. But it wasn't just looks; not by a long shot! Mattias truly appreciated the intelligence behind Lukas's cutting remarks, but Mattias didn't realise how far in love he was until he realised that he wanted to make Lukas smile and laugh, even if it was at Mattias being in pain. And even though Mattias knew such things were highly unlikely, he had dreamed impossible dreams of Lukas loving him back, of making breakfast in Lukas's kitchen, of having Lukas to come home to, of slow-dancing with Lukas in his living room. He even went as far as imagining what it would be like to marry Lukas and possibly adopt together, the way Berwald and Timo had adopted Sir Kirkland’s much younger brother Peter and another young Academy boy: a ginger named Erland who spent far too much time on his laptop.

But now…

Mattias supposed that these silly dreams never really mattered anyway.

Because even if Lukas had loved him back…

Now it looked like those dreams would now stay dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is Captain Carriedo soulmates with Miss Emma?" Giovanni asked suddenly.

Romano, who had been sitting on the curb, blinked up at his little brother. The question had startled him, mostly because one minute, little Gio was in the empty street in front of the Vargas family restaurant, with Romano watching him play in the pre-dinner twilight. Then next thing Romano knew, little Gio was standing in front of him asking that question. 

_ Captain Carriedo and Miss Emma… Great. _ The two people he  _ didn't  _ want to talk about...

"What makes you say that?" Romano replied after a moment's hesitation. He noticed that he sounded a lot calmer than he felt, albeit his voice was kind of quiet.

"Well," little Gio began, "they spend a lot of time with each other. They always sit really close to each other. They're always smiling at each other and staring at each other's faces… And the Captain always calls her ‘ _ bella _ .’ It's kind of gross," little Gio finished, wrinkling his nose adorably. The corners of Romano's lips twitched.  _ Mio Dio _ , did he love this kid. And smart too.

"Gross?" Romano chuckled.

"Yeah," the little Seaborgian boy replied. "Because then then they might kiss and stuff. Grandpa Nonno called it Row-mans, and he said he'd teach me all about it when I'm older." Romano grinned outright this timed. That sounded like his grandfather Romulus, alright. And gosh, was this kid cute.  _ Row-mans. _ Ha.

"Romance  _ is _ gross, isn't it?" Then Romano got an idea that would be fun for the both of them. He leaned over little Gio's toybox, plucking out two sock puppets. One was a pirate, and the other was a cat with a ribbon. Romano slipped them each of them onto one of his hands.

"Look, Gio," he called to the boy. "It's the Captain and Miss Emma."

Giovanni clapped his hands eagerly. "What do they say, what do they say?! Is it gross?!"

Romano smiled. "Oh, you have no idea..." And so he told him a story, shaking each puppet up and down, dropping his voice for the pirate and the cat a high-pitched squeaky voice.

> _ An eager Antonio bursts onto the scene. "Hello, Miss Emma! Here's that cup of pigs' sweat you asked for." _
> 
> _ Miss Emma takes the cup with a smile. She drinks from it, making a loud slurping noise. "Mm, my favourite. Thank you, Ant!" _
> 
> _ The Spaniard captain turns ketchup red, looking shyly at the ground. "Now, I've been meaning to tell you how very ugly you are..." _
> 
> _ The Belgian lady giggles in an unflatteringly high voice. “Oh, really?” she squeaks, batting her eyelashes. _
> 
> _ Antonio gives an idiotic flirtatious grin. "I used to think you were just a regular ugly monkey, but now that I'm up this close? I can see that you're a super, ultra, mega gross gorilla." _

Little Gio giggled. "Monkeys and gorillas?"

"Oh it gets even worse," Romano smirked.

> _ "It makes me want to kiss you," Antonio breathes, making a loud smacking noise as he pecks Miss Emma's lips. "Mm, you taste like garbage quiche." _
> 
> _ "I'm sorry," Miss Emma swooned. "I was distracted by your rancid breath." _

"Ew!" Little Gio was giggling again.

"See? What did I tell you? It got worse." And Romano shook the pirate puppet again.

> _ Antonio strokes Miss Emma’s cheek. “Well, I must be off, my princess.” _
> 
> _ Miss Emma runs her fingers through Antonio’s hair. “So long, sucker.” _

Romano wiggled the pirate puppet once more. “Chimpanzee you later,” Romano finished. At this point, little Gio was a giggling mess, and Romano found himself snickering too. That moment was almost perfect, and Romano felt like he could almost smile for real again—

“Wow, Romano, I didn’t know you such a good story teller!” came an all too familiar sunny-sounding voice.  _ Great. Super. Stellar.  _ And Romano grumbled a string of a few of his favourite curse words at the sight of his “former” boss.  _ In his head _ , of course. Little Gio was still with him, after all. Speaking of the little devil…

“Whoa, Captain Carriedo,” little Gio breathed, absolutely starstruck.

The captain smiled at the small boy. “And what’s your name, little sailor?”

“My name is Giovanni Vargas, sir!” he straightened to give his best salute. Wrong hand and a bent wrist—he hadn’t quite gotten to  _ that _ part of Academy training—but it was still cute.

“And you’re having a good time with Romano, I’m sure!” And the Captain laughed that heart-twitching laugh of his.

And Romano wished he could shove his foot inside his own stomach and stomp on every single stupid butterfly.

Little Gio nodded eagerly. “ _ Si, Capitano _ ! He is my _ fratello _ !”

The Captain looked surprised. "Your brother?" Romano was just surprised that the Spaniard knew what that Italian word meant. It was nothing like its Spanish equivalent, after all.

Meanwhile, little Gio was nodding eagerly. " _ Si _ ! Grandpa Nonno says that family is the most important thing in the world!" The Captain nodded seriously, as if he considered little Gio to be his equal. (And considering how childish the Captain could be sometimes, little Gio might as well have been his equal.)

"Your grandfather is very wise man," the Captain said seriously. It was a strange look for him; he was never serious. "I wish  _ I _ had a family..." He almost looked sad...

Little Gio perked up. "Would you like to meet the rest of my family?!"

Romano's eyes widened in horror. Little Gio was fine. Hell,  _ Veneziano _ was fine. But Luciano, Flávio, his  _ grandfather _ ?! Romano was about to protest, to say that,  _ surely _ , the Captain had better things to do than meet the rest of his psycho family. No one,  _ no one _ , really  _ needed _ to know the rest of the crazy Vargas clan. And he was about to open his mouth and say something when he felt a chill along the back of his spine...  _ Something bad was going to happen _ . _ And  _ **_soon_ ** _. _

And so instead, he said, "That's a good idea, Gio. Would you like to take the Captain to the restaurant?” The Captain looked at Romano like he was a sign that the world was ending, and it took every piece of Romano’s self-control not to crumble under his piercing gaze.

Even little Giovanni looked surprised. “Really?!” he squeaked, trying to contain his enthusiasm, almost afraid that such a display would make Romano change his mind. But to the astonishment of the other two, Romano simply nodded.

“I'm sure Nonna will take good care of him…” he replied.  _ And keep everyone else in line _ . After all, one does not simply mess with Lady Hersilia Vargas. Not even her husband Romulus or her late brother-in-law Remus when he was still alive. Not even Remus's ruthless grandsons: Luciano, who acted like a mafioso, and Flávio, who nitpicked people's fashion sense to shreds. Not even  _ they _ messed with their Grandmother. So, Romano prayed that she would keep the other Vargas boys in check, seeing as Veneziano would probably be too busy following that dumb potato to guilt their cousins into being nice to people.

Meanwhile, little Gio was pulling the Captain by the hand towards the family restaurant behind Romano, ranting about the different foods. (Little Gio was Veneziano's brother, alright...)

"...people always get the pasta," little Gio was saying, "but my favourite is the lasagna! Although, you look like you would enjoy veal parmigiana... Oh! Our desserts are good too! Like our cannoli...and our gelato..."

Romano smiled a little at the scene, and he felt his stupid traitorous heart twitch again, this time at the sight of the Captain holding the hand of a small child. The Captain was laughing and smiling, and little Gio was really working his role as an adorable living advertisement. Honestly, little Gio was the  _ real _ reason the family restaurant was so popular: they may have stayed for the food, but they came because cute little Gio asked them to in the first place.

Either way, the Captain would be in good hands. After all, if there was one thing the Vargas clan  _ could  _ be trusted to do, it was distracting someone with food and conversation for hours on end. And with that, Romano ripped his gaze away from the restaurant entrance and stood up from his place on the curb. No one would notice if he was gone for a few hours, and his family had been waiting for this day anyway. And so he disappeared into the impending night.

There was a certain pirate who needed to shoot him.

Shame, too, that said pirate was the man of his dreams.

* * *

 

There was a reason Natalya Arlovskaya hated bars. But contrary to popular belief, it had nothing to do with the gropers or the screeching giggling girls in horrible  _ horrible  _ dresses. It wasn’t the overpriced and pathetically weak drinks. It wasn’t even the close proximity of  _ way _ too hot sweaty dancers. It was because whenever she went to a bar, no one would hit on her. No one would even go  _ near _ her. The Latvian busboy looked like he was going to have a heart attack whenever she asked for another drink. Even her childhood friend Toris Laurinaitis and his boyfriend Feliks seemed skittish around her, and her two gay friends scurrying “to the bathroom” or “to get more drinks” ten minutes after arriving made for a lot of awkward nights alone in the corner during her Academy days. There was a reason she hadn't been out in forever.

Now Natalya had the sneaking suspicion that her general treatment was because of her obnoxiously protective older brother, threatening people away from her. She supposed this was revenge for the amount of guards she had stationed around him, but she was just doing her job! Did Ivan not understand that long as he was King of Clubs, he needed protection? As the Ace of Clubs, she was head of security, and she would order her forces as she saw fit. She was going to show  _ everyone  _ that she was taking this job seriously. After all, she’d busted her ass trying to get this traditionally male position; she would not slip up  _ now _ .

But maybe her status was also the problem. After all, her status was the only reason she was here at a bar at all. Her colleague Sadiq, Ace of Spades, had been “so damn depressed over all the damn dead ends” in the disappearance cases of Lord Steilsson and Sir Kirkland. Truthfully, Natalya was also frustrated with the lack of progress, but Sadiq liked any excuse to go drinking. He liked the attention he got at bars. Now, normally, it was Bram, Ace of Diamonds, or Antonio, Ace of Hearts, that handled a drunk Sadiq. But tonight? Tonight was different. Antonio was hopelessly addicted to that angry Italian—for reasons everyone except for Antonio and Romano understood—so she had heard the Captain say something about checking on his former shipmate.

As for Bram… The normally stoic man had been absolutely paranoid ever since he found out his wife was pregnant, and it only became worse now that Rochelle was approaching her last few weeks. Hell, between that and the stress of telling his old friend Mattias that Lord Steilsson was dead, Natalya had dragged him out onto the street and shoved him into a cab headed home. Honestly, he was a nervous wreck, and she couldn't stand it anymore; he was hardly productive at all! And so with Antonio whipped and Bram wrapping his “delicate” wife in bubble wrap to keep her “safe in bed,” Natalya was left alone in the corner of the bar, watching Sadiq embarrass himself all the way to hell.

_ Bram and Antonio so owe me for this. _

Natalya sighed, glaring into her pathetically weak drink and bitterly observing that one thing, at least, hadn’t changed since her Academy days: drinking by yourself was every bit as depressing as she remembered, and in the back of her head, she had always wished  _ someone _ would talk with her. And it wasn’t just because she felt lonely. It was because she had a theory. See, Natalya, like every other person she knew, was born with a tattoo: a tattoo of what supposedly was the first thing your soulmate said to you.

_ Well, hello there, beautiful, _ her tattoo said.  _ What's your name? _

She had always secretly loved her tattoo. It was simple. It was straightforward. And ever since she learned what a pickup line was and where they were dropped, she always figured she'd meet her soulmate in a bar. Which is why it severely annoyed her when no one even  _ looked _ at her, let alone hit on her.

And a drunk Sadiq most certainly didn’t count.

“Come on, Nattie,” Sadiq drawled. “You need to get  _ laaaaaiiiiiiiii _ —”

A sharp slap to his arm dislodged it from her shoulders. “I do not, Sadiq. Do not mistake your desires for mine.” Sadiq blinked a few times, then simply shrugged.

“But  _ seriously  _ Nattie,” he continued only after two seconds of blessed silence, trying just so painfully hard to look like he was trying to have a deep and serious conversation. “You’re, like, my best friend, and I’m, like, the best wingman in the world.”

Natalya’s scowl deepened further. “No…No you are not—”

“Yes I am, and I’m gonna get you laid.”

“No, you do not have to—”

“Hey, hey!” Sadiq began calling to a man sitting at the bar.

The man turned and frowned.

“Hi, so, this is my friend Nattie…And she’s super hot. And  _ you’re  _ super hot… You guys should make a baby. You  _ should _ . A  _ beautiful _ little bay-bee...”

The man at the bar—Natalya was  _ pretty _ sure he was from Bulgaria—began coughing uncomfortably, and he stood up and walked away.

“You are allowed to walk away,” she called after him. “It is okay.”

Sadiq whirled around. “Alright, no. He was ugly anyway.”

Natalya blinked. “No, he was actually really attractive—”

“No he was ugly. Nattie, it’s okay! There’s other fish in the sea. Don’t worry about it.”

Natalya was  _ seriously _ annoyed right now. These drinks just weren’t strong enough to make her drunk enough to deal with this crap. She really regretted rebelling against her brother’s suggestion to stay home, especially when Sadiq started screaming all over again.

“Hey, HEY!” Who was he even yelling at? The Latvian busboy that sometimes also refilled her drinks? Wasn't he too young for her or something? But apparently that didn’t matter, because suddenly Sadiq grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks with his palms. Natalya wanted to scream or punch or something,  _ anything _ . But no. Her reputation was too important.

“Look at my friend!” Sadiq continued screaming. “Isn’t she cute?!”

Alright, Natalya had enough, and so, after slapping some sense into her drunk colleague, she instead told Sadiq that what would  _ really _ make her happy was if  _ he _ got  _ himself _ laid. And so, with his inebriated logic, he decided that he’d go harass the DJ for a “good sexytimes song. Then I could kill it on the dancefloor, and all them ladies won’t be able to resist my sexiness!”

And with that, Natalya was left alone once more in the corner of the bar, never more grateful for such a thing in her life. Sinking into a seat, and took to people watching instead. Okay, so maybe it still severely annoyed her seeing a bunch of couples happily dancing together, but she didn’t always hate being alone in a bar; after all, she could watch people make absolute fools out of themselves. She’d seen many of the French King’s conquests, as well as the King of Hearts eating tomatoes in the corner with his Queen. She’d even seen Yao, Jack of Spades—and her older sister’s husband—dragging a drunk Sir Kirkland out of the bar.

Speaking of Sir Kirkland, there was a girl at the bar entrance. Normally, that wouldn’t have been of any importance, but Natalya couldn’t help but notice the way the girl kept impatiently tapping her foot and check her watch.  _ A watch _ . Natalya wasn’t exactly a fashion expert, but she was pretty sure a Tag Heuer Carrera didn’t exactly fit with a plaid-and-leather punk outfit. And neither did the glasses or pigtails. This left Natalya to guess that she must have been a courtly lady, trying to strip herself of her manners for tonight. And for most people, it would have worked. But as a true Academy graduate, Natalya had always paid attention to small details, and the graceful, purposeful, and deliberately control way this woman moved belied years of training in refined manners.

Now, Natalya would have dismissed her as a courtly lady costumed as a rebel in honour of the Diamond King and Queen’s birthweek. But there was something... _ off _ about her movements. Even though the elegant movements seemed deeply ingrained, it seemed that she was straining to keep (or perhaps against?) them, as if she couldn’t decide who she wanted to be anymore, like she was trying to shake off the chains of past self…

Suddenly, another woman appeared. Natalya didn’t see where she came from, on account of the shaking Latvian waiter refilling her drink, but gee, that was quick. Now, this woman had unbelievably long blonde hair, even longer than Natalya’s. Her movements were also refined, but to a lesser degree than the punk woman’s. This woman was also dressed up, this one in a sailor’s outfit. Natalya noted that she kept pushing the left side of her hair behind her ear, as if she usually pinned it back on that side…

The two women were now sitting in another corner of the bar—as in, opposite of Natalya’s own corner—apparently in a deep conversation. They sat in the booth, each sitting on opposite sides of the table, and the way they were in the other’s direction, coupled with the passionate hand gestures and the way they seemed familiar with the other… A normal person would have dismissed them as a couple engaged in what appeared to be a building argument. But Natalya knew better: the two women knew each other well, that much was plain to see. But they weren’t together. They didn’t melt in the other’s direction the way true soulmates did.

Wait… They looked like…  _ No _ . It’s only been one day after Steilsson’s disappearance, and two after Sir Kirkland’s. To have two women that looked remarkably like them in town so soon after the disappearances… Not to mention that the both the doppelgangers  _ knew _ each other… This was setting off alarm bells in Natalya’s head as she scrounged around for a plausible explanation. Perhaps they were distant relatives. No… Sir Kirkland reported only twelve-year-old Peter—who currently lived at the Academy—and a few other relatives living halfway across the world in the British Isles, so Natalya doubted one of them could have gotten wind of the disappearance so soon.

Meanwhile, it was highly unlikely that Lord Steilsson had any distant relatives. His mother Ingrid had been the only daughter to several generations of only children, making her the last in her family line. So no relatives there. And Natalya doubted that the sailor woman was from Lord Grigori’s side of the family, because Lord Grigori liked to name his many bastard children, regardless of the status of the mother. There was her Katya, who took the name “Yekaterina Braginskaya” because she was born nameless to an unknown farm widow who died in labour. (Some say Katya wasn't Lord Grigori’s child at all, that she was simply orphaned and adopted; after all, how Lord Grigori even found out about her birth in the first place will forever be a mystery…) Then there was her older sister Anya Braginskaya, daughter to a nameless dollmaker. At least Anya turned out better than her siblings; she was now happily married to her soulmate: Yao Wang, Jack of Spades. Then came Lord Steilsson, who at least got to be raised by a happy loving family with a brother who actually loved him… And finally, the last of the bastard children, Natalya herself, born to a scorned woman who decided the best way to get revenge on Lord Grigori for leaving her was for Natalya to ascend to a high throne. Which was why Natalya was currently Ace, a job considered to be more stressful than even the King’s.

And poor Ivan, the only legitimate child. His mother committed suicide after she found about Natalya because she was tired of being cheated on. Ivan had raged at his father for hurting his mother so… And in the literal loss of his true wife and the figurative loss of his only real son… Lord Grigori too soon killed himself. And so it was Katya and Anya and the Academy elders who raised them all, Ivan and Natalya bonding together over their dysfunctional family.

Ivan and Natalya were quite close. In fact, some rumours would even go as far as saying Natalya wanted to marry Ivan and keep him for herself. That rumour seemed to base itself on the fact that Natalya never seemed to trust any of Ivan’s suitors. To be fair, Ivan never trusted any of Natalya’s suitors either, but all the trust issues laid in their dysfunctional parents. Their trust in the whole soulmate thing had gotten better, what with Anya’s happy marriage as well as Katya finding peace and security in the arms of her Estonian husband. But still...one could hardly blame them for continuing to be wary.

Now, though, Natalya wished she knew Lord Steilsson’s branch of the family better, if only to account for that sailor woman… Was she a lost sister? A cousin perhaps? Maybe Natalya could make a better judgement if she saw the sailor again… But when Natalya looked up, she saw Sir Kirkland’s and Lord Steilsson’s female counterparts starting to move towards a backroom. Now, something made Natalya think that they looked at least  _ slightly _ guilty, or at least like they knew something bad was about to happen. Considering the speed they were heading towards the door, they either were heading towards the scene of the crime, or they were headed away from it. And since nothing in the club was changing…

Whatever was going on, Natalya got the crazy notion these two women, wherever the hell they were from, were involved in the disappearances. And judging by how they were booking it, the next disappearance was happening, and soon. And if Natalya could follow them, she could probably make an arrest, and all this nonsense would be over and done with. After all, that was what usually happened whenever she followed her gut. And so she sat up from the booth, downed the last of her drink, and headed towards the bar—or rather, towards the backroom door  _ behind _ the bar. She was going to get to the bottom of this—

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” a drunk voice slurred. “What's your name?”


	4. Chapter 4

Vasile  _ hated  _ third wheeling.

Okay, so Rose and Halle weren’t dating, but still. Those two—as in, back when they were both still male—were always in charge. It was always those two getting up and taking care of problems, and it was always Vasile left to do the clean up or as backup or  _ something _ . It was understandable, really. As a male who could actually cast spells, he was considered a freak in the magical world. Males typically had no magic and were often kept around for breeding purposes. The unlucky ones who couldn't find a bride in the magical realm often fell in line with mortal obsessions like gambling or alcohol. So, despite the fact that his friends were males for most of the time that he knew them, Vasile still felt he was on a slightly lesser level than them. He wasn't sure how intentional his dismissal by the other two was, but even if it wasn't intentional, it still kind of hurt.

Oh well. They understood him better than any human ever could. He was a dhampir: with a vampire father and a witch for a mother. Rose was part Fae, and the fact that her mother died certainly didn't help prevent her human husband’s spiral into a violent mess. And then there was Halle, who was half of some Norwegian creature called a Huldra—she got pissy when Vasile called her a siren. Here they all were, the three magical half-breeds: too different for this normal world, but the magical world was far,  _ far _ worse…

“Vasile!” Rose’s voice snapped him back into the present. Right now, the three of them were all headed to a nightclub. It sounded like a good idea until Vasile found out why they were actually there.

“That club is frequented by the Aces, particularly Sadiq,” Rose had said. “We need to know how desperate they are to find our former selves. If they’re really invested in this, we’ll have to sit them down and explain ourselves.”

Halle was frowning. “I wonder whatever happened to keeping our magic a secret…” Vasile was half-zoning out, but he silently agreed with the sentiment.

Rose scowled back. “We will be exposed anyway if we don’t keep track of the Shadow. And besides, the Aces are basically cops. And cops understand the need for confidentiality. They can help keep this whole affair out of the wrong hands.”

_ Right _ , and the Aces were just going to believe them. Vasile really wanted to roll his eyes or scoff or something…  _ Bull. Freaking.  _ **_Hockey._ ** After all, Vasile had told Queen Elise of the Diamonds such tales, and she thought it was all a literature lesson.  _ Literature _ . And that was the young Queen! Certainly the  _ Aces _ , the  _ sensible lawful peacekeepers _ , weren’t going to listen to tales of magical creatures. 

Especially not  _ her _ .

Yeah,  _ she _ was the only reason Vasile even agreed to this crazy plan in the first plan. You see—probably because he was at least  _ part _ human—he too was born with a tattoo of the first thing that his soulmate would say to him. And in his case… He was somehow lucky enough to get a name. Albeit, it was only a first name, but that was still more than most people had to go off of. And so, when he ran away to Kartoj all those years ago, he had heard of a young woman who had fought tooth and nail through physical tests, interviews and social stigmas to get the position of Ace. And the minute he heard her name… He  _ knew _ she was the one.

_ Natalya _ .

She was  _ perfect _ .

Oh sure, she was terrifying and took no one’s—and probably wouldn't even take  _ his _ —trash, but  _ still _ . She was smart and could take care of herself. She was hardworking and knew how to get her way. She had an unshakable sense of justice, and she would fight for it, no matter the social consequences. And actually, she  _ had  _ to be top notch in  _ everything  _ in order to gain any sort of power or respect in this sexist world. But of course she surpassed everyone’s expectations: she was the whole package! She was beauty, she was grace… 

_ And she's going to punch me in the face. _ Yep, because thanks to Rose—Vasile’s  _ pretty  _ sure Rose just wanted to drink—she and Halle were in the corner booth talking leaving Vasile to sit at the bar and stop anyone from disturbing them. (The shaking Latvian busboy filling Rose’s drink apparently didn't count. Poor Raivis. He was one of Vasile’s Literature older students. As old as the Diamond Queen, just about.)

This was boring. Because everyone was too busy paying attention to the drunk Ace of Spades. No one paid any mind to Rose and Halle. Not even Vasile himself. He was waiting for his Bulgarian best friend to come back with their drinks. And he couldn’t help but listen to what was going on. Especially since it involved  _ her _ .

“Come on, Nattie,” Sadiq drawled, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You need to get  _ laaaaaiiiiiiiii _ —”

Natalya slapped his arm sharply. “I do not, Sadiq. Do not mistake your desires for mine.” Sadiq blinked a few times, then simply shrugged. At this point, Sadiq was lucky he was an entertaining drunk. It was the only reason Vasile wasn’t punching him right now. Well, that, and Natalya could do it herself just fine. It wasn't like Vasile was scared to talk to her or something. Nope, that wasn't it at all…

“But  _ seriously  _ Nattie,” Sadiq continued after a while, trying just so painfully hard to look like he was trying to have a deep and serious conversation. “You’re, like, my best friend, and I’m, like, the best wingman in the world.” Vasile snorted at this point. Fortunately, he was alone; no one would judge him for reacting to a conversation he wasn't supposed to be listening to.

Vasile watched as Natalya’s scowl deepened further. “No…No you are not—”

“Yes I am, and I’m gonna get you laid.”

“No, you do not have to—”

“Hey, hey!” Sadiq began yelling at the bar, and Vasile’s heart stopped a bit.  _ Oh God he’s talking to Boris!  _ Now, the Bulgarian looked understandably confused, and hidden away in the corner booth, Vasile snickered. This ought to be good.

“Hi, so, this is my friend Nattie…And she’s super hot. And  _ you’re  _ super hot… You guys should make a baby. You  _ should _ . A  _ beautiful _ little bay-bee...”

Now, Boris—he probably knew Vasile was laughing at his discomfort—began coughing uncomfortably, and he stood up and walked away. At least he got the drinks. Vasile could feel Boris’s glare, but that only made him laugh harder.

“You are allowed to walk away,” she called after him. “It is okay.”

Sadiq whirled around. “Alright, no. He was ugly anyway.”

Natalya blinked. “No, he was actually really attractive—”

“No he was ugly,” Sadiq interrupted. Vasile snorted.

“Oh shut up,” Boris growled. At this point, he was back at their table with the drinks.

And Sadiq started screaming all over again.

“Nattie, it’s okay! There’s other fish in the sea. Don’t worry about it. Hey, HEY!” Who was he even yelling at? Raivis? But apparently that didn’t matter, because suddenly Sadiq grabbed Natalya’s face, squeezing her cheeks with his palms. She looked like she wanted to scream or punch or something,  _ anything _ . But Vasile knew that there were judgemental sexist pigs around that would  _ love  _ to twist that into some damaging rumor. Hence, Natalya’s restraint.

“Look at my friend!” the drunk fool continued screaming. “Isn’t she cute?!”

At that, Natalya smacked him soundly. She must have told him to go sing karaoke or something, because he was currently failing at hitting the high note in  _ Take On Me _ by a-ha.

Now that should have gotten the attention of everyone at the bar away from Rose and Halle. Except—and with  _ his  _ luck, it just sort of figured—that  _ she _ wasn't paying attention to Sadiq at all. In fact,  _ she  _ was staring across the floor. And of course, with his luck,  _ she  _ was staring at Rose and Halle—

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her,” Boris cut in. As Vasile’s best friend and old roommate, it was his duty to be the realist to Vasile’s hopeless romantic dreamer.

“I’ve already told you, Boris,” Vasile replied, tearing his gaze away from  _ her _ . “Just because I know who she is does not mean she knows who I am. And I very well can’t just go up to her and say, ‘Hey, I think you’re my soulmate!’ That would be rude. That is  _ not _ how you woo a lady!”

Boris rolled his eyes. “She’s  _ never _ going to  _ be _ wooed at this rate…” he grumbled into his drink.

Vasile heard the comment. “Are you calling her un-woo-able?!” he gasped. “How dare you say that about a perfect walking angel—”

“ _ Look _ at her, Vasile,” Boris snapped. “Has anyone talked to her besides Sadiq?”

Vasile glared into his drink. He knew the answer was no.

“That’s because everyone is terrified of her,” Boris continued. “The woman can kill you with little more than a glance, and she can do more in her sleep than some people ever do their whole life. That  _ scares _ people. No one wants to mess with her. That’s why she’s lonely, Vasile. And she needs you to stop being such a pansy.”

Vasile’s head snapped up. “I am  _ not  _ a pans—”

He never got to finish the sentence. Because a cold feeling snuck along his spine. Straightening up in his seat, he made eye contact with Halle and Rose. Halle nodded, and Rose stood up to leave. Halle quickly followed suit.

“That’s Lukas and Arthur, I’m guessing?” Boris asked. Vasile’s gaze snapped back to him.  _ Figures  _ **_he_ ** _ would figure it out.  _ Boris was too smart for his own good, honestly.

“Not so loud!” Vasile hissed. “People these days might still persecute magic!” Rose, Halle and he had been persecuted enough in the magical world for being dirty half-breeds…

“I think you have bigger worries,” Boris said, gesturing subtly in Natalya’s direction.

“Oh God, no…” Vasile could see Natalya getting up to follow Rose and Halle. Of course  _ she _ was smart enough to piece together the similar appearances; she was simply too good at her job  _ not _ to… And she was reaching for her handcuffs, which she always keeps at her hip…  _ She meant to arrest them _ . An arrest would lead to an interrogation, and she was simply too good at her job to accept their practiced roundabout and general answers. She would be suspicious, and she would never let it go until she found the magic…

Vasile repressed a shiver of dread. He had to move. And fast. None of the Aces would ever believe in magic. They’d be confined to some hospital, and the Shadow would leak into people’s dreams and would turn them into nightmares. And with the only ones who  _ could _ stop the Shadow locked away in a hospital… What then?

Boris sighed, watching Vasile rush away in Natalya’s direction. “Go do what you have to. I’ll handle Andrei.”

Vasile thanked him silently, busily planning his next move. He knew his little brother Andrei would understand. And he was grateful that Boris understood too. And even though he knew that the two of them would interrogate him about the whole soulmate thing later, he didn’t exactly have time to care.

And then he had a plan in mind. Oh sure, he was probably going to end up in jail or even killed or at  _ the very least _ beaten up, but it would definitely grab her attention. Thankfully, he still had his drink with him. So he sloppily downed his drink—making sure to get it on his clothes so he smelled like alcohol—and began to stumble his way to the bar.

_ How I wish we could have met under better circumstances _ .

And before he knew it…he was walking up to  _ her _ . From behind, which was a stupid and dangerous idea—but he was supposed to be a stupid drunk—but he only did it because he had a job to do. A part to play. And so did she. And so he chose a crappy pickup line that would probably get his butt kicked into next week. But to be fair, it also wasn’t the worst pickup line he could have chosen.

Natalya was his soulmate, after all. Vasile wanted to be a sincere as the situation allowed. And so, he draped himself across the bar and gave her a crooked grin.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he slurred. “What's your name?”

* * *

 

_ The universe hates me _ .

There was no other explanation. Why else would Natalya finally hear the words she’d been waiting for her whole life…in the middle of a bar when she was moving to  _ do her damn job _ ?! And it was some drunk guy too.  _ That _ was the best part. Natalya sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, turning away and refusing to even look the guy, praying that the guy would just leave.

He didn’t.

She'd always had so many issues with the concept of soulmates, especially that gnawing fear that her soulmate would be some complete loser. After all, she had been working hard all her life; she wanted someone who would understand and respect that fact, maybe even work just as hard so they could sympathize or something. But for all intents and purposes, this drunk guy seemed to be the complete loser she was afraid of it being. But still. Whether she liked it or not, this drunk guy was her soulmate. But that didn't mean she had to look up at him or even face his general direction. After all, if this guy truly was her soulmate, she’d find out what he looked like soon enough.

Life truly was ironic, though. When she was younger, she’d often wondered how she’d respond. But there was no playing hard-to-get; there was no witty, clever response. She was simply too stunned that someone was actually  _ talking  _ to her,  _ looking  _ at her, _ not the least bit scared of her _ . And okay, the guy was drunk,  _ but he was hitting on her _ . That  _ never _ happened. And so the only thing that Natalya could say was her name.

“Natalya,” she answered. It certainly wasn’t the most confident answer she had ever given; it was surprised and even a little breathless.  _ Dear God, was she losing her touch. _ After all, her job demanded that she be able to keep herself clear of distracting emotions.

“ _ Natalya _ ,” the guy answered. It took every ounce of Natalya’s countersurveillance training to keep her from opening her eyes to look at him or from shivering from the way her name rolled off his tongue. Although, if she didn’t know any better, she would say that the guy seemed almost… _ relieved _ . As if he had been waiting all his life for the chance to finally say her name.

“And what is  _ your  _ name?” she demanded. Politely as she could be without looking at him, of course. This  _ was _ her soulmate, after all. And besides, her gut was telling her there was something off about all this. Was it his behaviour? Was it his timing? Natalya wasn’t sure, but she knew she had to keep her guard up.

The guy seemed to smirk at her lack of politeness. Almost like he thought it was adorable. (Now, Natalya didn't actually see his face, but her gut was telling her he was.) 

“Vladimir Dragulescu, at your service,” he replied, and Natalya could tell by the rustle of his clothing that he had accompanied his response with a huge sweeping bow that smelled  _ slightly _ like alcohol. Wow. Was this guy for real? And Natalya had this sneaking feeling that if he had the chance, he would have kissed the back of her hand.

But then she heard him stumble a little, and suddenly Natalya remembered: he was supposed to be drunk. And keeping her from doing her job.  _ But still. _ There was something  _ off _ .

“Vladimir Dragulescu,” she repeated slowly, her eyes still closed. Apparently, Natalya still couldn’t come up with anything clever. Nor could she figure out what was bothering her.

“Yes ma’am,” the guy drawled. “But since that's my father’s name, I would really prefer it if you called me Vasile.”

Natalya took that in. “Vasile.” Because Vladimir was his father. Natalya wondered if he was some sort of foreign noble. It was normal for nobles to name their sons after their fathers, hence why this guy would go by—at least, what Natalya assumed to be—his middle name.

“Tell me something, my queen,” Vasile drawled again. “How does it feel?” Natalya’s head jerked up at the sound of the sudden endearment. Thankfully, she caught herself in time and managed to keep her eyes closed. After all, years of expression control training do not simply break for soulmates. Besides, there was  _ still _ something off about all this…

Natalya felt herself frown at Vasile's question. “How does what feel?” She felt herself scowl into her empty cup, her eyes still closed.

“To be the only exception,” Vasile drawled. He was smirking; Natalya could sense it.

“The only exception to what?” she asked apprehensively. She almost didn't want to know the answer to that question.

_ So why did you ask? _

“You are,” Vasile replied lazily, “the only exception. To the ‘nobody's perfect’ rule.” She could sense him tilting his head in her direction. “You  _ are _ perfect, aren't you?”

Natalya tried not to shiver when he rolled his “are”s. And her ears most certainly weren’t burning underneath her hair. Fortunately for composure (and perhaps unfortunately for Vasile), the words stung a little. Because everyone else saw her as a perfect soldier, a perfect professional with no break in her poker face. She was perfectly smart, perfectly trained… But she  _ wasn't  _ perfect. At least, she never felt that way.

It was then that Natalya decided that she had had more than enough of this guy. She had a job to do, after all. And soulmate or no, there was still something _ off _ about him.

“As sweet as you are, sir,” she snapped. “I do have attend to other business. So if you don't mind…” She placed her cup down and got up to leave, her eyes still closed.

And with that, she stood up and walked through the back door of the club.

It wouldn’t be until later that she wished she looked back.

It wouldn’t be until later that she wished she got his number.

It wouldn’t be until later that she wished she talked to him some more.

But she didn’t.

Now fortunately for our would-be lovers, life—or fate, karma, God, whatever you call it and/or them—is really funny sometimes.

And it turned out that it wasn’t long at all until Natalya would encounter Vasile again.


	5. Chapter 5

If Natalya’s life played out precisely the way she planned it, Vasile would have let her go. He would have left her all by herself to try and find the suspected women who were probably gone by now.

He didn’t.

Oh, he let her think that he did. In fact, she got as far as the alleyway behind the club. Then suddenly, there was a dark silhouette in front of her. So suddenly, that a normal person would have blinked, and he would have simply appeared. But Natalya was not a normal person; she had seen a blur and heard an almost noiseless rustle. But she was still caught slightly off guard, so she only had about a quarter-second of a warning before she pulled out her knife.

“I’m sorry,” Vasile said. “But I can’t let you go.” Now if she ever looked back, Natalya would realize that he really _ was _ sorry. But in that alleyway, his voice was steady, and to Natalya, he didn't sound sorry for a damn thing. His gaze was piercing, and she could have sworn his eyes were almost glowing. It was so dark that she still couldn't see him, but she could see his eyes. Those eyes… It was then that Natalya realised what had been off about this whole night. (Well, there were many things off about him, but this one was the most important.)

Vasile wasn’t drunk.

And something somewhere angrily snapped in the back Natalya’s mind, and she pounced. A normal person would've seen a blur, and the next thing they would have been aware of would be been being pinned and cuffed by Natalya. They wouldn’t even have time to react. But Vasile reacted. In fact, he looked startled that she could move that fast. (Which, if she ever bothered to look back on it, is probably  _ why _ she managed to cuff and pin him at all.) Either way, Natalya had pinned and cuffed Vasile, and she was holding her knife against his throat.

“Who do you think you are?!” Natalya shrieked angrily. Her famous emotional control was suddenly gone, but she was too hysterical to care. As for Vasile, his eyes widened, but otherwise his expression did not change. That only served to upset Natalya even further.

“My queen,” he began quickly. “I—”

“Do you not  _ understand?! _ ” she screamed at him. “I have a job to do! You’re keeping me from arresting the closest things I have to suspects!”

“I—” Vasile tried again, but Natalya just kept going.

“I have been working so  _ hard _ to get where I am now! If I fail… If I mess up at  _ all _ … They’ll fire me for any reason they can come up with! And I—”

“ _ Natalya _ ,” Vasile interrupted. His cool tone cut her fiery rant straight into silence. And in that moment of clarity, she finally saw him: his eyes the color of dried blood, his hair an almost unreal color, one small fang protruding from soft-looking lips… And Natalya was stunned into silence. This…this  _ criminal _ …He wasn’t supposed to be  _ cute _ …

“Natalya,” Vasile repeated. “Your job is safe because only an idiot would fire someone as competent as you. They know full well that there would be too much of a public outcry if something happened to you, so those sexist pigs keep their mouths shut. And they  _ will _ keep their mouths shut if  _ I  _ have anything to say about that.”

Now, somewhere in the back of her head, Natalya realised that her grip on him had loosened. But, for some reason, he didn't even try to escape. Hell, he didn't even move or look away. He just kept on staring at her, as if trying to figure out whether to comfort her or not. After all, against all her training, Natalya found herself shaking.

“Why…? Who… _ what _ are you…? What are you  _ doing… _ ?” she whispered, hoping that he wouldn't hear her.

He did.

“You see, my queen,” he said calmly. “I'm trying to keep you from wasting your time.”

That just made Natalya mad all over again. “Haven't you been  _ listening?! _ I  _ told  _ you! Those ladies are—”

“I know,” Vasile snapped coolly. “But I promise you, my queen. You will find nothing of use there. At least, nothing that will hold up to a human court of law.”

_ A human court of law _ . No, the choice of words did  _ not _ escape Natalya’s notice. 

“You say that like you  _ aren't  _ human,” she noted.

The corners of Vasile’s twitched bitterly. “I’m not good at  _ being _ human.”

Natalya blinked. Once. Twice. She then felt her lips twist into a smile that was just as bitter. “Good thing I've never been good with normal humans.”

Vasile stared at her for a long while, and Natalya met his gaze evenly. They stayed like that for a while, and just as Natalya was about to lose herself in his eyes, he closed them and inhaled deeply.

“No,” he broke the silence. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at her again, this time looking pleasantly surprised. “You  _ wouldn't _ be good with normal humans, would you?”

It really didn’t matter if that was supposed to be a rhetorical question or not. Either way, Natalya didn't want to answer that. Not yet, at least. So she changed the subject instead.

“Why shouldn’t I go?” she pressed. “What will I find there if I do?”

The pleasantness dropped from Vasile's face. He looked almost sad, and Natalya found herself thinking that such a dark expression didn't suit him at all.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” he said dismally.

“Try me,” she snapped, and Vasile’s eyes glowed again. Natalya wondered if—

There was a snap and crunch as the metal handcuffs fell to pieces from Vasile’s wrists.

Natalya blinked.  _ Oh my God _ , Natalya thought.  _ And I thought only one who could break those cuffs was— _

“My queen,” Vasile said dangerously. “I promise you. You might not believe what you see.”

And Natalya was mad again. “Will you stop saying that?! Answer me: what is so hard to believe about this?!” She was shaking again, but she was too far gone to care.

Vasile, to his credit, had just as much anger in his gaze. “Do you know what it's like, my queen? To have to hide a huge part of yourself because the world will condemn you if you express it?”

Well,  _ that _ struck a nerve. “Shut up, she growled.

He didn't.

“Do you know what it's like to have to always leave no evidence?” he asked louder. “Because the evidence you leave behind would raise too many questions?”

“ _ Shut. Up! _ ” she snarled, crouching and baring her teeth at him. Her hands were tense, and she barely felt like  _ herself _ anymore.

“Do you know what it's like to be something you're not supposed to be?! “he screamed back, his eyes glowing, his stance matching hers. “Do you know what it's like to know that  _ you were never supposed to exist?! _ ”

“ _ SHUT UP! _ ” Natalya roared. And with that, she launched herself at him. Her body stretched, her clothes tore, and she ran at him on all fours. She desperately wanted to tear his throat out—

She didn't. Couldn't.

Everything in her body screamed incessantly to sink her teeth into his throat. She was running so fast that the wind was whistling through her furry ears. But he moved before she could pounce on him. Spinning on a dime, she whirled around to face him again. And she was surprised.

There, in Vasile’s place, stood a wolf. It was a hellish, winged wolf, but it was a wolf nonetheless. His eyes were glowing their infernal color, and Natalya knew that her current form matched his, right down to the height of their withers and the glowing eyes. But where he was dark and shadowy, she was light and shimmery. His eyes resembled some sort of inferno, hers seemed to be shining with burning sunlight. And where his wings resembled that of some infernal dragon or bat, hers were softly feathered.

She just stared at him. She couldn't say anything. Because she had always thought… Even among the werewolves, she was a freak. And yet, here was someone… He was…

« _Well..._ » he said to her in her head. « _That explains a lot._ »

Natalya felt her hackles rise and her teeth bare. « _And just what is_ _that_ _supposed to mean?!_ » she snarled.

« _You smelled like a werewolf,_ » Vasile clarified. « _But only faintly. I figured you probably lived with one, but I didn't think that… Well…_ »

Natalya understood. « _Hereditary werewolves are rare,_ » she admitted. « _And even then, I'm only a half-blood._ »

And Natalya sensed a change in his emotions, as if this new information made him realize that maybe, just maybe, she could understand his struggles after all. And that possibility was so much more than he had ever dared to hoped to have. He stared at her for a long time, and she stared back.

Finally, he walked towards her, and she approached him too. And before they knew it, they were both human again, their clothes having magically repaired. They stared again, and slowly, gently, Vasile offered Natalya his hand.

“Come with me,” he whispered softly. Shakily. As if he was terrified she would say no.

She didn’t.

“I want to show you,” he continued. “My world. And what really happened to Arthur and Lukas. Because I’m starting to think…No. You  _ can _ handle what you’re going to see. You…you’re so unbelievably amazing.  _ You have no idea… _ ”

Natalya wished she was good with words. So could say something just as meaningful. But she couldn't. And she wasn't.

So she didn’t.

It was funny, really. Never in her life did she think she’d find someone just like her. She thought she was all alone in this world…

“What will I see?” she whispered.

Vasile gave a tight-lipped grim smile. “Just know that…Everything you’re going to see… It’s real. All of it is real.”

That really didn’t answer her question. But her gut was telling her that she could trust him. And since her gut had never failed her before…

She took his hand. “Show me. And for the record, I live alone.”

* * *

 

Romano inhaled the all-too familiar scent of seawater. He opened his eyes and glanced up at all the boats. He could sneak onto one of the great ships: no problem whatsoever. The guard was always asleep under a newspaper, and even if the guard  _ was _ awake, Romano knew where all the blindspots—to security cameras or otherwise—were located. He had been sneaking out here for years. He knew he wouldn't get caught now. No, that wasn’t what worried Romano at all. What worried Romano was… Well, what he would be doing tonight.

_ Just one more night _ , he told himself. Unfortunately, that was the same thing that he told himself every night. But this time…  _ This _ time, he told himself, he really meant it.

_ The Shadow has finally crossed over. It’s time to break the spell... _

The flow of the world was changing; he could sense that. And as much as Romano didn't want to admit…he had a sneaking feeling that this would be his last night with his pirate. 

_ Well then, since you're the one with such a bad feeling about it, make this one count. _

It was for the best, Romano supposed. It wasn’t healthy, after all: this relationship he had with his pirate. But this pirate gave him so much more than his Captain ever would. After all, what would the Ace of Hearts, little Gio’s hero, his former  _ boss _ …ever want with him?

Romano shook his head. He didn’t come out here for  _ Antonio _ . Not exactly. He had other things to do at the moment. And so Romano raised this hands. Clapped once. Twice. Then he stomped his feet, beat after beat. He closed his eyes and began to twirl…and twirl… He snapped his fingers to Spanish flamenco music that wasn't there. He dropped to his knees, spinning as he did so. He danced and danced…

And suddenly, he wasn’t alone. Suddenly, there was someone that dancing with him, in perfect sync, who suddenly grabbed his arm. Together they went from flamenco to a passionate sensual dance that was still elegant, but it wasn't flamenco at all. And, then, the stranger dipped him low, and Romano allowed his eyes to close and his head to fall back.

“ _ Buonasera, il mio caro _ ,” the stranger crooned in his ear. Finally. His pirate had arrived. 

And Romano had to suppress a shiver.  _ Mio Dio _ , Italian had never sounded better.

It truly was a pity that Antonio had never spoken a word of Italian, save for the random words that Italian and Spanish shared. And even then…it just wasn’t the same.

Romano must have been frowning, because his pirate immediately took notice.

“ _ You're thinking about him again, _ ” his pirate purred in Italian. “ _ Do you want me to help you forget him? _ ”

Romano opened his eyes, just enough to see his pirate. “Alejandro…” he whispered.

Alejandro smiled. “ _ Sì, il mio caro? _ ” And Romano’s breath left him again.

See, Alejandro was the spitting image of Antonio: he was tanned, fit, handsome, and simply one hell of a dancer. He was charming, strong, and he rocked that pirate’s outfit like a dream. But like the dream he was… Alejandro wasn't a perfect replica. There was a white tuft in his bangs, and his hair was long enough to tie back into a ponytail. But most importantly were his eyes. They're weren't Antonio’s breathtaking green, but Alejandro’s were still shockingly bright enough of a color to remind Romano that none of this was real.

That color was red.

_ But that doesn't matter. Not tonight. _

And so Romano made the same two-word mistake he always made.

“ _ Per favore _ ,” he whispered.

His pirate dutifully delivered.

* * *

 

“I have a bad feeling,” Halle muttered suddenly.

Rose’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn't look up from examining the tracking spell. “What?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Halle repeated.

Rose, to her credit, was only half-listening. “Bad feeling about what?” she asked, frowning at both the flickering spell and the question.

Halle shook her head. « _ Look behind you _ ,» Halle projected instead to Rose. See, in addition to being telekinetic, Rose was also telepathic.

_ Reading people’s minds like Jean Grey _ , she thought dryly.  _ But unlike Jean Grey, I have no obnoxiously clingy boyfriend to scream my name whenever I die or go mad. _

Despite the flickering spell, Rose looked up anyway. And immediately regretted doing so.

“...Vasile. You're late,” she glowered.

Vasile, however, did not look the least bit perturbed. In fact, his complete focus on the person following him—and the resulting ignorance of Rose’s death glare—made him neither sorry nor regretful.

* _ Great…*  _ Rose’s telepathy picked up Halle’s wry thoughts. * _ Why is there a white winged wolf landing behind him? Whatever happened to “we're not supposed to have outsiders with us at this point”?* _

Rose however couldn't breathe. Because the voice inside the newcomer’s head… Rose had only heard it a few times, so there was no way that that wolf was—

_ *This damn criminal is my soulmate,* _ Rose heard the wolf grumble.  _ *And I don't care if he's cute and willingly leading me to my suspects. I don't even care that he has a wolf form too. He still thinks he's a better flyer than me!* _

…nope. It was precisely as Rose feared. This wolf…

“Vasile found his soulmate,” she said softly. Rose sensed Halle’s alarm as her ice powers kicked in, and an elegant rapier formed in her hand. Stepping forward and pointing the sword in the wolf’s direction.

“Show yourself,” Halle said calmly. “I don’t take kindly to strangers.” The wolf snorted, walking slowly towards Halle’s sword just as calmly.

“Ah yes, so I’ve heard,” the wolf said as she took her human form. Straightening to look Halle in the eye, Lady Natalya Arlovskaya smirked. “Lord Lukas Steilsson.”

_ Huh. The girl has backbone. _

Halle blinked. Once. Twice. Otherwise, Halle and Natalya steadily held each other’s gaze. Then, with a nod of respect and a rare half-smile on her face, Halle lowered her sword.

“Good,” she mused. “Vasile needs someone like you to keep him organized.”

Natalya smirked while Vasile spluttered, clearly offended. “Yes, my Lord,” she replied with a devilish smile and a slight bow.

“Lady Arlovskaya,  _ please _ ,” Halle rolled her eyes. “Call me  _ Lady _ Steilsson, if you must. But I really would prefer it if you simply called me Halle.”

Natalya straightened up. “Yes, my Lady,” she nodded. Then she turned, walked and stopped in front of Rose. Dropping to one knee, she placed her hand over her heart and kept her head bowed. Someone had put a lot of time into making this woman into one hell of a soldier. That much was clear. Training practically screamed with every move she made.

“Your Majesty,” she addressed Rose in Kartojian court tradition. “Queen of Spades.” And she never looked up. As Rose expected. After all, Aces are expected to be well-versed in court manners, and Lady Arlovskaya had them down to a the last cross of a T. Rose gave her own bow of respect, the appropriate response of tradition.

“Rise, Lady Arlovskaya,” Rose responded according to court tradition. She straightened up, and Natalya stood slowly, hands falling to her sides and her head the last thing to straighten.

“It is an honor to serve you, Your Majesty,” Natalya gave the traditional greeting for a meeting a Royal for the first time. 

“And it is an honor to be served by you, Lady Arlovskaya,” Rose finished. “From this point forward, you will be called Natalya. You will address Lady Steilsson by her chosen name of Halle, and you will address me as Rose. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, Natalya, do you have any questions?” Rose was sure Natalya had a million, and she also knew that Natalya would ever admit to it. Good soldiers like her knew to fulfill orders now and to keep their questions for a more convenient time. That much was clear when Natalya blinked in surprise, not expecting such a convenience so soon. She quickly cleared her throat, unsure how to act anymore. After all, the idea of being casual with a Queen seemed almost absurd to her.

“Just one,” Natalya admitted. “Why the sudden familiarity?” Despite the question, it was clear that Natalya still didn’t want to push her boundaries too much.

Rose didn’t call her out on it.  _ Better not tell the girl I know what she’s thinking. _ And it was an understandable question, really. “Well, you’re Vasile’s soulmate. So, chance are, you’re going to be hanging out with us a lot more.”

Natalya was still a little confused. “Yes… But what do you two have to do with the disappearance cases? I understand that you two didn’t  _ really  _ disappear, but…”

Rose could only nod grimly. “You see, Natalya,” she began carefully. “You are about to witness a necessary murder.”

Rose sensed Natalya’s sense of justice kick in. “No murder is necessary! How could you possibly say—”

“Because it will only  _ look _ like murder,” Halle cut in.

Now poor Natalya looked even more indignant than before.

“My queen,” Vasile stepped forward gently before she could say anything, and Rose and Halle took an interest at the choice of endearment. “Look at Rose, and look at Halle.”

Natalya scowled. “Yes? So?”

“And you understand that Arthur and Lukas are now Rose and Halle?”

Natalya’s scowl deepened. “Yes. I had always doubted they were dead when we couldn’t find any bodies… But I still don’t understand how one can switch gender like this?”

”Well… Along the same lines of how we are able to transform into wolves. There are illogical forces in this world, my queen. And they are very real, indeed.” Vasile, for his part, looked calm, but Rose knew he was scared that his soulmate wouldn’t believe him. After all, why would an Ace, trained to believe in evidence to prove how something happened, believe in magic?

But to his utter astonishment, she simply nodded. “I had always figured that might have been the case. I mean, the hereditary werewolves have their own form of magic. It would make sense for other kinds of magic to exist.”

A pause, a stare, and Vasile quickly cleared his throat in order to his surprise. “Yes, well. What you are about to witness? This ‘murder’? See, in becoming male, these girls left behind their bodies, their very  _ identities _ . And so, in order to reclaim their  _ old _ lives—”

“They have to die in their new ones,” Natalya finished in little more than a whisper.

* * *

 

The time had come. Romano knew that in his gut.

And so…  _ Here goes _ .

“Sandro,  _ stop _ ,” he squeaked. It was so hard, but he still said it.

Alejandro didn’t stop. In fact, he just kept dragging his lips against his neck. “We both know you don’t  _ actually  _ want me to stop.”

“ _ Alejandro _ ,” he hissed. “ _ Stop _ .”

Finally, Alejandro stopped moving. Raising his head slowly, he stared at Romano, his eyes glowing in anger.

“ _ You _ ,” he hissed back. “You  _ never _ want me.”

Romano had a flashback to an angry pirate Antonio. And panicked. “Sandro—”

“ _ No! _ ” he snapped. “I’m  _ sick _ of being  _ his _ replacement! I’m  _ sick _ of being  _ his _ shadow!”

“Sandro—”

“I ought to  _ kill _ him!” he screamed, pulling a gun out of nowhere.

“ _ Don’t! _ ” Romano screamed back. And Romano tackled him. They struggled for the gun, which was kicked, shoved, pinned against the side of the boat—

And suddenly, so was Romano. Alejandro had him pinned to the side of the boat, half of him hanging over the edge. If Romano tried to struggle out of where he was, he would fall into the ocean far, far below. Alejandro was gripping the gun in between them, face still livid. They were both breathing heavily, but Romano wasn’t winded from the fight. He stared instead at the gun between them, which was pointed at his head.

This was it. Here it was.

And he managed to whisper his last three words.

“I’m so sorry.” And with that, he gripped the gun and pulled the trigger.

He would never quite recall any pain, any sensation of blood, or even the noise of the gun. He would never recall slipping off the boat and out of his pirate’s grasp. He would never recall the wind whistling through his ears as he fell. He would never recall the icy cold collision between his body and the ocean far, far. He simply let his eyes flutter shut, and he let the darkness consume him. He would, however, remember smiling softly. Peacefully.

_ Finally. Something that went my way _ .

…but it was because Romano shut his eyes that he would also never recall his pirate reaching for him, and the look of horror on his face before he exploded in a flash of light.


	6. Chapter 6

In the expansive garden of a house in near the beach, another naked lady awoke. She sat up, grumbling about how uncomfortable the ground was. Rubbing her temples and taking in her surroundings, she dimly recognized the all-too familiar smell of fruit trees, grass, cool night air, and just plain  _ earth _ . And she growled a few of her favorite curse words. Of all the places she could have possibly woken up, it just  _ had _ to be the old beach house…

It took her a second for her eyes to become adjusted to the dark. She looked up, and there was a tomato dangling above her head. For a second, she was tempted to pick the perfectly ripe tomato and just eat it, but she was an expert, and experts always checked their food before they ate it. Never mind that she had eaten from this very garden for years…

Suddenly, she heard two  _ very _ familiar voices. For a second, she could have sworn she was a child again: hiding in the garden so she could wash her dirty bedsheets and return them before anyone noticed. Of course, she had always been found in the house trying to return the sheets. But she prided herself in the fact that she had never been found in the garden.

_ And I am not about to break that streak, dammit _ .

She then hid herself among the fruit trees and tomato plants, expertly blending in and keeping still. After hearing the screen door slam shut and seeing the other people move farther into the kitchen, she began to sneak her way over to a tree, where she could sneak into an upstairs bedroom and grab some clothes. After all, she was still naked. But! That did  _ not _ mean she couldn’t climb a damn tree. And actually, climbing the tree naked was probably the easy part. And like the expert she was, she easily swung herself up onto the roof. But she gradually grew annoyed, even more so than usual. Not because she could hear who was talking—she was used to this particular pair talking for  _ hours _ —but because of what they were saying.

"…and we'll have churros, too,  _ bella _ !" The man sounded way too peppy, as always. Honestly, how could he still have this much energy this late at night? Or was it early in the morning? Either way, it was still an absurd hour…

"Aw, thank you, Antonio! You're so sweet!" And of course, the woman responded with an equally grating amount cheer. Which was quickly cut off by a dramatic sigh. "I just wish that Big Brother could join us…”

“I know,  _ bella _ ,” Antonio consoled. “But he’s a little busy being worried about his pregnant wife. She’s so far along, after all.”

“I know, but it’s been forever…” she sighed, but then she perked right back up. “Oh well. It looks like it’s just the two of us again!”

“Yeah…” Antonio replied a little offhandedly. He sounded a little distracted…

“Antonio?” Emma asked.

A pause, then the rushed answer. “Sorry…It’s just…”

“What?”

He cleared his throat, a little awkwardly. “...do you ever wonder? What it would be like?”

“What  _ what _ would be like?”

“…being married?”

Our daring intruder choked. Well then, she had heard more than enough. So, since she was on the roof—and therefore out of sight of the kitchen backdoor—she snuck to the window of the guest room. It was closed, but fortunately for her, she was more than familiar with how to break into a house.

(Don’t worry.  _ That  _ will be explained eventually.)

After quickly and quietly wiggling the window open, she slipped into the house, shutting the window behind her just as quietly. She paused and took a moment to look around and the guest bedroom. Or maybe it shouldn't have been called the guest room. At this point, it might as well have been Emma’s room for whenever she felt like staying over—which was quite often. Because as much as Antonio liked to party, he was more likely to go  _ to _ a party rather than host one himself or have people over.

Fortunately for our daring intruder, Emma had not yet settled in for the night, so her room remained as untouched as when Antonio last cleaned it. Not that Emma was a bad guest or a sloppy woman: in fact, she always straightened the room before heading home. But when it came to the things inside his house… Antonio was surprisingly anal. Our daring intruder chalked it up to his pirate days, when he demanded everything be kept shipshape or else. And since old habits died hard, Antonio always remade the bed, rearranged the pillows, even refolded the laundry. He just didn't like the way other people did it.

And it was from the arrangement of these things that our daring intruder knew Antonio had been through here. Fortunately, she also fancied herself the only person who could perfectly replicate the way he arranged the room. So she felt free to rummage through Emma’s drawers for clothes. After all, Emma had so many clothes; it wasn’t like she’d miss any of them. In fact, our daring intruder even grabbed some underwear.

(The bra was a little small, but it would do well enough until she could find time to go shopping. God, would her fashionista brother have a field day.)

In the end, she stole a light brown military uniform, a pair of red heels, and a pair of black gloves. The uniform as really fashionable, actually: what with the double breasted top and belted skirt. And to top it all off, she tied one of Emma’s red ribbons around her head. She also decided take an extra complete outfit; she had a feeling her sister would be back soon… Her sister’s outfit ended up being something similar, but the uniform top instead consisted of a brown dress shirt and a black tie. The extra outfit still had a belted skirt and black gloves, but our daring intruder knew that her sister prefered boots to heels. Thus: the knee-length brown boots and the stolen stockings. And the best part was: our daring intruder found a backpack to put her sister’s outfit in! Life was just so convenient sometimes…

Quickly refolding all the clothes into Antonio’s preferred style, our daring intruder slipped on the backpack and set out to find a way out of the house. After all, the guest room was on the second floor, and as easily as she could climb trees naked… There were some things that a girl would just rather  _ not _ do in heels. Now, admittedly, she took off her heels for the purposes of keeping quiet in the hallway. (Damn Antonio and his damn hardwood floors. Never mind the fact the stuff was so much easier to clean and maintain than carpeting.) However, she would still rather not climb down a tree in a skirt holding a pair of shoes.

_ And besides. Where was the fun in leaving the same way you entered? _

And so, our daring intruder listened at the door. The water was running, and there was music (and less than stellar singing) from the nearby bathroom, which meant Emma was in the shower. And based on the smell starting to float through the house and the sounds of kitchen utensils, Antonio was cooking the promised churros. And her mouth watered. Just a little.

_ Idiot may be annoying, but damn, can he cook. Maybe I can sneak a few on the way out. _

She poked her head out of the door and looked both ways, then, seeing no one was coming, she began to creep through the hallway. Passing Emma was no problem. Between the “singing” and the spray of the water, our daring intruder doubted she could be heard even if she  _ did _ make a noise. So instead, she took the time to honestly think about the confusing relationship between Antonio and Emma. They first met when Emma’s brother Bram seized Antonio’s boat, finally ending the Spaniard’s pillaging. When interrogating the former pirate, Emma had found that Antonio only stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Seeing a heart of gold in the now ex-pirate, Emma pleaded that his fighting and “skills set” be used for good.

And of course, since no one can actually say ‘no’ to perfect pretty Emma, they let him be the Ace of Hearts, succeeding a retiring Romulus Vargas. King Alaric Beilschmidt, Queen Cristina Dacia, and Jack Hiroshi Honda were skeptical, of course, but since the Diamonds’ darling was pleading his case, they gave him a chance. Why Emma even intervened in the first place was still beyond our daring intruder. After all, Diamonds are notorious for being self-serving and manipulative to suit their ulterior motives.

Either way, ever since then, Antonio and Emma were close. Very close. Which made no sense, since both of their tattoos were still black, not the scarlet of a bonded pair. So why the Hell were they still living in sin? (Well not really: it can’t be a conjugal relationship when they haven’t even kissed. Hell, they didn’t even live together!) So what was up with Emma? After all, our daring intruder just so happened to know that Antonio was staunchly against being in a romantic relationship with someone other than his soulmate… Was Emma some sort of exception because Antonio was just looking for a companion because he was sick of waiting for his soulmate? And if they weren’t banging, then what the Hell was Emma getting out of this? Our daring intruder… Something just didn’t sit well with her: this idea of  _ them _ . They just didn’t… _ belong _ together. Their relationship just… The very concept just inherently felt… _ wrong _ .

Our daring intruder shook her head.  _ No matter how I feel about that idiot’s relationships, it still doesn’t change the fact that Emma’s a lucky bit— _

Some little silvery glittery thing caught the corner of our daring intruder’s eye. Now, she didn’t actually  _ hate _ Emma; in fact, she knew that if she gave Emma half a chance, they probably would be great friends. (But that didn’t mean she was going to happily ship Emma with Antonio, dammit.) One thing our daring intruder  _ did _ approve of, though, was Emma’s fashion sense. Hence, why the silvery glittery thing hanging in the hallway of the house caught her out daring intruder’s eye. It was, of all things, a red masquerade mask. It wasn’t too poofy or gaudy or anything—even the extravagant Diamond darling was too fashionable for that—but it also had enough material that it actually covered your face. And really, our daring intruder had seen more than enough wiry masks where people could still see who you really were.

And so, on a whim, she snatched the thing from the wall and put it on. Looking down, she saw that there was the old hallway mirror about the size of a small portrait or painting. It was just sitting there, on the floor, propped up against the wall. Our daring intruder frowned, then hung it on the nail that used to hold the mask. After quickly checking her reflection, she saw that her hair was in order. And thus, she made her way downstairs, stewing over the  _ nerve _ of Emma to just barge in and rearrange the hall decorations—this wasn’t even her house! How  _ dare  _ she come and rearrange how everything was decorated! Antonio didn’t change anything when he moved in, so why should Emma? She had  _ no right _ .

See, before Antonio came along, this house belonged to the previous Ace of Hearts. Romulus and Hersilia Vargas raised their children and grandchildren here, then gave it to Antonio. By that time, all the Vargas children (with the exception of little Giovanni) had grown up and moved out, so Romulus felt no real reason to keep such a large house. Antonio was understandably confused why he, a single young bachelor, was better off with a sizable house than an older guy and his wife, who—unlike Antonio at the time—had a huge social circle to throw parties for. Romulus had simply tilted his head, glanced at Emma, and told Antonio that he will  _ definitely  _ need the space one day.

Now, at this point in our daring’s intruder’s escape, Antonio had left finished churros on a plate on the counter, with more churros waiting next to the stove to be cooked. Antonio himself had gone out to tend to his pet bull, who had been making noise outside. The little guy was orphaned young and often kind of lonely, so Antonio was the closest thing he had to a parent. Either way, that gave our daring intruder the time to find a paper bag and sneak a few churros. 

She sniffed a churro. Chocolate-filled. Emma’s favorite.  _ Figures _ .

She herself longed for the plain  _ churros con chocolate  _ that she had when, once upon a time, she was happily studying abroad one summer in  _ España _ . At least with those, she could decide how much chocolate went into each bite. But, beggars can’t be choosers, so she still grabbed a brown paper bag—she just so happened to know where he kept those—and took all the finished churros on the counter. Selfish, it would seem. But our daring intruder knew that it wouldn’t matter whether she took one, two, or half of the finished churros: no matter what, Antonio would simply  _ know _ that someone had touched the food. So really, she might as well take all of them and spare him the grief. She carefully lifted each churro off the plate and gingerly placed each churro into the bag. After all, food this good deserved gentle treatment.

“ _ Bella _ !  _ Bella _ !” came Antonio’s voice. 

And our daring intruder cussed in several languages under her breath. She had forgotten that he could move just as silently as she could, so she barely had finished neatly packing the churros into the bag before the kitchen back door opened and shut. And there she stood, staring at Antonio, who was carrying, of all things, a stray cat. A very  _ very _ pregnant female, from the looks of it. And for a little, the Ace of Hearts and a girl in a mask stared at each other. And our daring intruder took in the handsome blade that was Antonio Fernández Carriedo: a well-built and fit man with scruffy hair, tanned skin, and striking green eyes… This wasn’t a romantic comedy or anything, but if she were ever held at gunpoint, she would grudgingly admit to feeling something close to being spellbound.

And then, of course, because he just couldn’t stay perfect, the idiot opened his  _ stupid  _ mouth and effectively broke the spell.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, as if he  _ just now  _ realized that: “You’re not  _ bella _ .”

Our daring intruder blinked once. Twice. “I have to go,” she finally replied, after staring at him a beat too long. And she just could not handle him right now. Because no. No, she was  _ not _ his “ _ bella _ .” Not now. Not ever. And she honestly thought she would have accepted that fact by now.  _ She was such a crybaby _ …

She grabbed her churros and ran, nearly knocking over a freshly showered Emma. And no, it did  _ not _ bother our daring intruder  _ in the slightest _ that Emma was wearing tiny shorts and one of Antonio’s old shirts.

_ And no _ , she thought as she slammed the door behind her and vanished into the night.  _ It also doesn’t bother me at all that no one’s running after me, trying to stop me from leaving _ .

* * *

 

Normally, people wouldn’t think that Romano and Veneziano were related if it weren’t for the fact that they looked so much alike. But when freshly woken up, Veneziano was just as angry and likely to swear as Romano was at any given hour. So when he was woken up at 6:32 AM this morning by a phone call from his  _ dear _ cousin Francis, he had cussed him out and crankily hung up the phone. Now, Veneziano was pissed. It took him so long to fall asleep, so once he was awake, he couldn’t just fall back asleep. So instead, he stumbled downstairs, dumped stuff in the coffee machine, and ripped open the box of Danishes that Timo had sent from Mattias’s shop yesterday.

After Veneziano had time to calm down a little, he took his breakfast back upstairs and sat down at table on the balcony leading out from Ludwig’s office. Ludwig himself never really used it, so Veneziano knew he wouldn’t get caught eating his breakfast away from the kitchen or dining room. (He always yelled about the worst things. Seriously, who cares about crumbs in the  _ hallway _ ?) As Veneziano sat there, sipping his coffee and chewing his Danish, he thought about the phone call from this morning. Francis was ranting in rapid French, so Veneziano only caught words like “soulmate” and “spotted”. (But he already knew the context: apparently, Francis was  _ so _ freaking competent that he managed to find his soulmate only to lose her all over again.)

But despite early hour, even he had to admit that there was something to be said about a sunrise over the vast land of the Hearts palace. It wasn’t like Italy, not by a long shot, but an artist like him couldn't disregard the soft rustle of the trees, the gentle light shining through the clouds, the light chirping of the birds…

“Your Majesty! King of Hearts!” came a panicked voice from behind him.

Veneziano’s peace shattered.  _ Now what? It’s 6:49 AM, and it is too damn early for this. _

Now, the King of Hearts, Ludwig, had gone an emergency meeting with all the other Kings regarding the disappearances of the Sir Kirkland and Lord Steilsson. (Hence why his cousin Francis, King of Diamonds, was up at such an ungodly hour.) And Kiku, Queen of Hearts, didn't usually like talking to people, so it looked Veneziano would have to be the one to take care of this.

_ Well, at least I was already awake. God was definitely sparing someone from my full morning wrath today _ .

Veneziano picked up his dishes and walked back into Ludwig’s office. There, he found a winded Antonio.  _ That _ was Veneziano’s first clue that something was honestly wrong: usually, Antonio slept as late as Veneziano did.

At the sight of Veneziano, Antonio dropped to one knee in front of him, hastily placing his hand over his (surely racing) heart and bowing his head. He struggled to catch his breath.

“Your Majesty,” he gasped. “Jack of Hearts.” And the so-called Jack of Hearts nearly rolled his eyes.

“Rise, Captain Férnandez,” Veneziano sighed. Honestly, the time wasted on these traditional greetings was such a pain, but he knew better than to disregard them.

Antonio struggled a little to stand up. And when Veneziano noticed his shaky hands and pallid complexion… it was weird that carefree Antonio was actually worried about something for once. But still. It was so early…

“What is it, Antonio?” Veneziano sighed. Apparently, the caffeine still hadn’t kicked in yet. “No offense, but can it wait until after Ludwig comes back from the meet—”

Antonio looked indignant, but he was still a little too winded to speak. “Your brother…”

And Veneziano’s stomach dropped a little. He had his suspicions, but so soon?

_ The Shadow has finally crossed over. It’s time to break the spell… _

“Romano disappeared too, didn’t he?” Veneziano cut him off.

Antonio blinked. Once. Twice. And Veneziano watched him grow angry all over again “Yes,” he began softly. “Yes he did, and you want me to  _ wait  _ for Ludwig?!” Antonio screamed.

Veneziano stared at the Ace, glad for once that Ludwig wasn’t the one handling this right now. Veneziano had always been so much better with people’s feelings: hence why  _ he _ wrote all the “condolences” and “well wishes” letters for the Hearts kingdom, not Ludwig. Besides, Ludwig had more than enough to be stressed about. As for Antonio…as sweet as his protectiveness of Romano was, it was going to be a problem. 

“Antonio—” Veneziano tried to say.

Already, Antonio was furiously shaking his head, realizing he had been talking to someone who outranked him. “No, no,  _ no _ …” he muttered, running his hands over his tired face. “ _ Lo siento _ … I shouldn’t be so rude… I didn’t get any sleep last night, and I just can’t believe—”

“There really is no need to apologize, Captain-san,” came a soft, accented voice.

Veneziano’s groggy mind cursed a little. The more people concerned about Romano…

“You’ve clearly been up all night,” the Japanese man continued gently. “Why don’t you take the day off today? Get some rest, and clear your head.”

Antonio was still furiously shaking his head. “No, no,  _ no _ … I was the last person to see him… Except his little brother Giovanni…  _ ¡Ay Dios Mio! Necesito hablar con su familia _ —”

“Antonio,” Veneziano interrupted. He placed a comforting hand on the Ace’s. “Don't worry about telling my family,” he said in a rare serious tone. “I'll handle them. You just take it easy. I know what my…what Romano meant to you. Just…take care of yourself,  _ sì? _ ”

“But it’s my fault! I never should have let him go, and I knew it was weird that he actually let me meet his family—he usually just curses me out—and now he’s gone and I need to find—”

“You are  _ not _ going to find him in this condition,” Veneziano cut him off. “I will call your colleagues. Let them handle this.”

“But Sadiq probably has a hangover, and Bram’s wife is having the baby, and—”

“And what’s wrong with Natalya?” Veneziano interrupted. “She would not be in her position if she was not capable of handling it.”

Antonio opened his mouth to retort, then apparently thought better of it and hung his head. “I know she is…God knows the woman has accomplished more than I ever will in my life…It’s just that…I feel responsible for Romano’s suffering somehow.”

Veneziano took a deep breath. “I know Romano was not the most… _ affectionate _ person. But despite everything… He worried about you. And he wouldn't want to see you looking like crap because of him.”

And so, with a little bit of bargaining, it was decided that Antonio could come back tomorrow if he took today off. Antonio conceded, gave the proper farewell, and left his Jack and Queen.

Veneziano just barely sighed in relief when he heard another voice. “Kiku?”

Veneziano turned around, only to see Heracles Karpusi. In nothing more than bedsheets around his waist.

Next to him, Kiku was red and choking on his embarrassment. “H-Heracles…”

“Kiku,” he said softly. “Come back to bed.”

Kiku, like Heracles, was barefoot. But unlike the Greek man, Kiku was at least wearing a silk robe. Albeit, the silk robe didn't cover much—for example: the bandages tightly binding Kiku’s chest—but at least Kiku had the social grace to look embarrassed.

“I am sorry, Heracles,” Kiku finally managed. “I got out of bed because I—”

Just then, Kiku’s stomach grumbled. It was the fastest most people ever see the Greek move, as Heracles was suddenly swinging Kiku over his shoulder. Kiku yelped but managed to catch Heracles’s sheets and keep them around his waist before they fell to the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry?” Heracles asked, a protective streak in his voice.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Kiku replied softly, looking forward embarrassed, but really,  _ that _ wasn’t much of a surprise. Considering how shy he was and that his fiancé was practically a nudist, Kiku  _ always _ looked embarrassed.

Heracles managed to shift Kiku around so that he could look his fiancé in the eye. “Kiku,” he said softly. “You know I don't mind waking up, as long as I wake up to  _ you _ .”

Ah yes, Veneziano mused as he left to put his dishes in the kitchen. As much as he could appreciate a cute Soulmate story…he'd really rather not watch a public display. After all, being watched wasn't everyone’s kink.

_ And besides, some of us are still horribly horribly single. _


	7. Chapter 7

King Ludwig of the Hearts Kingdom.

A man of regal appearance and demeanor. A man too busy drowning himself in paperwork to socialize with the people that came calling. (Actually, it was more like he wanted to avoid the  _ ladies _ that came calling. He could handle men, but in classic Beilschmidt fashion, women had never made much sense to Ludwig.) He was also famous for his strict living way of living. From his exercise to his meals to his schedules, he was punctual, precise, and practical.

And he was a complete tyrant of a boss. At least, if you were someone that liked to take their sweet time, smelling the roses, savoring everything that the beautiful world had to offer. For example, the Hearts' Ace and the Jack. See, Antonio and Veneziano were notorious for getting on their boss's nerves. They took multiple naps a day, ate whenever and whatever they wanted, and worst of all, they were _social butterflies_. In fact, the only reason anyone saw hide or hair of the King and his shy Queen was because Veneziano and Antonio dragged to them to some party. Even Romano would sometimes show up to tell Ludwig that even though he still didn't quite like him, Veneziano would be really upset if he didn't show up. (Which got him to go. Every. _Time_. For the love of everything, _why_ _did it get him every time?!_ )

And worst of all, the two party animals were flirts. Oh, they didn't try to be charming. But between the two of them, Veneziano's brother, and the French King of Diamonds…  _ May God have mercy on the ladies of Kartoj _ . Because honestly. They were just naturally… Oh, how should Ludwig put this? Um… _ romantic _ ? Ludwig was more than aware that their element wasn't in business meetings and paperwork. It was in low lights and soft music and good food. It was in the clink of glasses, the drone of chatter and laughter, the smiles of their guests.

Unfortunately, Antonio and Veneziano had jobs. How they had managed to even get into such important positions was beyond Ludwig. But what did he know? After all, he had only taken the role of King in recent years. His older brother Gilbert had stepped down to take a retiring  _ Großvater _ Alaric's position as an Academy Dean. And it honestly suited his brother better than being King ever did. Instead of always paperwork and going to meetings, he got to ride horses, demonstrate swordplay, and talk about his favorite books—all reputable literary classics—without feeling like a nerd.  _ Großvater _ was just glad that Gilbert finally— _ finally _ —started to behave himself. Gilbert hadn't cared what people thought of him as King, but as an Academy Dean, he finally figured out that people were watching and that he ought to be setting an example. And besides, Gilbert, with his boundless energy and enthusiasm, had a much easier time relating to the kids than  _ Großvater _ did. It was like he was meant to do this.

Now, as happy as Ludwig was for Gilbert, he was still left wondering how on earth his colleagues got their positions. Antonio was a former pirate turned Ace. Many people resented such a "barbarian" being in such a high position, so Ludwig had guessed that Antonio had probably once worked very hard to earn people's respect. And he was right: because Antonio was so happy and carefree most of the time, he often surprised, impressed—and even terrified some—people with how crafty and observant he actually was. In fact, it was probably Antonio's approachability that was his greatest asset.

Veneziano, on the other hand…

"Morning, Ludwig," he mumbled over the rim of his coffee mug. He was still in socks, a half-buttoned pajama shirt that was far too big for him, and yellow boxer shorts: the classic attire for a recently awakened Veneziano.

Ludwig, who had walked into the kitchen at this point, looked up from flipping through his meeting notes to see the Jack of Hearts sitting at the kitchen table. It was probably the only time he wasn't so happy. Ludwig placed his notes in a neat stack on the table, and Veneziano got up and wordlessly poured him a cup of coffee. Ludwig sat down and glanced at his wristwatch.  _ 7:59 AM _ . Huh. Veneziano was actually early today.  _ Too _ early… But Ludwig didn't really process this too deeply, because his train of thought was derailed by Veneziano a few minutes later.

"How was the meeting?" Veneziano asked suddenly, sliding Ludwig a coffee and sitting back down across from him. Something twitched again in the back of Ludwig's mental radar. Veneziano didn't normally ask about business…

"It was…rather boring, if I'm allowed to be honest," he admitted. "Ivan was…strange as always, but I've never seen Alfred look as distressed as he did."

Veneziano nodded, swallowing a sip from his own mug. "Makes sense. Alfred's family took Arthur in, and they attended the Academy together. They were like brothers."

Ludwig was surprised. Veneziano hardly ever talked about the Academy. Bad memories, he said. But Ludwig  _ did _ know that he and Veneziano were supposed to be classmates with Alfred. But ever since the accident… He couldn't remember much before his coronation. Not even his own childhood.

Veneziano spoke again. "And Ivan? How is he?"

And Ludwig was surprised again. "I thought you were scared of Ivan?" When Veneziano simply shrugged—probably too tired to actually reply or be scared—Ludwig answered the question. "He seemed…on edge, really. Like he was waiting to hear from someone. Which, actually…perhaps he was."

Veneziano tilted his head. "How do you mean?"

"Well, actually, the meeting ended early because Ivan's sister Natalya came in. And she—" Ludwig stopped. And panicked.  _ Did Veneziano know? And if I have to tell him…  _ Ludwig stared at Veneziano, bracing himself for screaming, crying,  _ anything _ . But as it turned out, he wasn't prepared at all. Because he never expected to see Veneziano look at him with such a level expression.

"If this is about Romano," he said calmly, "I already knew about it."

Ludwig stared, wondering—not for the first time—what on earth he was supposed to say to that.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Veneziano rolled his eyes. "I'm his  _ family _ , Ludwig."

_ Oh. Oh! Right. Aces inform next of kin of a death or disappearance, and they only inform their superiors if it's a matter of kingdom security. I _ —

"And besides," Veneziano's smirk stunned even Ludwig's  _ brain _ into silence, "I'm a Vargas. And nothing ever happens in Kartoj that we Vargases don't know about."

And all at once, Ludwig remembered that this carefree Italian ditz…was member of the fearsome mafia-esque Vargas family. Now publicly, the Vargas clan were hard-working and helpful people, eager to serve you at their restaurant or cheer you up with art. And yet, despite their charming personalities, the shadowy rumors surrounding them, not to mention the amount of connections  _ everywhere _ … Even his  _ Großvater _ exercised caution, even around their patriarch Sir Romulus, despite the fact that Sir Romulus was  _ Großvater _ 's Ace.

"But anyway, what about Francis? How is that  _ darling cousin  _ of mine?" Veneziano asked with a saccharine tone.

Ludwig snapped back to the present and quickly answered the question. "Francis usually hates meetings and wanted to get out of there as always… But he was oddly productive today. If a bit distant."

Veneziano nodded, and Ludwig couldn't help but think how odd it was, their roles after a meeting: Ludwig talking on and on, and Veneziano patiently listening as he sipped his coffee. But Ludwig also knew that if the conversation was about anything other than work, their roles would switch again. But for now…

The fake sugar in Veneziano's voice hadn’t escaped Ludwig's notice. "Did Francis do something? You seem upset." Ludwig wondered if he need to threat—er,  _ talk to _ , Francis later.

Veneziano shook his head. "No, he didn't do anything too unforgivable. It's just his fault I'm up so early," Veneziano said wearily, sliding Ludwig the Danishes. Ludwig reached for the box and noticed it was ripped. Veneziano must have torn it open in his cranky, sleep-deprived state.

Ludwig frowned as he grabbed a Danish. "Francis's?" he asked as he closed the box.

Veneziano nodded and sighed. "More crap about how his soulmate was sighted today at an un _ god _ ly hour in the morning," he griped, rolling his eyes. "And the worst part is, he wasn't even mad that his 'beauty sleep' was interrupted. So he's not going to be the least bit sorry for waking me up this morning."

Something clicked in Ludwig's head as he grabbed a napkin. "That would explain why Francis looked even more eager to leave the meeting than usual," he said, biting into the Danish and setting it on the napkin.

Veneziano sighed. "It's because of his obsession with his soulmate  _ and _ his immediate dismissal of Arthur that I start to wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Ludwig asked Veneziano. He sipped his coffee, pleasantly surprised by the taste. Black, with the exact water-to-coffee ratio that he liked.

Veneziano's face was oddly thoughtful. "Well, Cousin Francis isn't exactly picky with his lovers, right?"

"Yes," Ludwig grimaced.  _ Francis has absolutely no qualms about hiding that fact. _

"And so one time he told me he didn't mind a male lover, so long as his personality wasn't like Arthur's."

Ludwig chewed his Danish carefully. "Well," he replied after he swallowed. "Those two always were constantly arguing. That much would make sense."

"But Ludwig! Have you ever noticed that despite that, those two were the first to team up? In  _ anything _ ?!"

Ludwig cringed internally. " _ Please  _ don't tell me that you 'ship' them too. I get enough of that from Elizabeta—"

"No, Ludwig, what I'm saying is—" Veneziano stopped. Then he shot up and stood with both of his palms flat on the table. "What are  _ you _ doing here?" Veneziano asked in a tone that was familiar, but Ludwig couldn't quite place it. (Probably because he'd never heard it from  _ Veneziano _ …)

When Ludwig turned around to look at the kitchen entrance, he wound up wondering the same thing.

"Will you relax?" the man at the door sighed. Dressed in a pinstripe suit, a red tie, and a fedora, he seemed more tired than dangerous. Which  _ really _ set off something in Ludwig's head, even more when this man seemed unarmed. After all, it was rumored that Luciano Vargas never went anywhere without a gun or a dagger.

Luciano walked in and dropped to one knee. "Your Majesties, King and Jack of Hearts."

"Luciano…" Veneziano warned in that same tone. And Ludwig guessed that he was in one hell of a ride: the only thing that irritated Veneziano more than waking up early was dealing his cousins Luciano and Flàvio. And since—for Veneziano at least—it was still early in the morning, he was most certainly in no mood to deal with Luciano.

"Rise, Luciano Vargas," Ludwig said. And Luciano didn't move. Of course he wouldn't. He was too well-versed in the traditional greetings; he wouldn't move until the other Royal he greeted asked him to rise as well.

Ludwig nudged Veneziano, and Veneziano huffed. "Fine, fine. Whatever. You may rise."

Luciano rose, then went straight to business. "Two options, little cousin. Either I take you home to the Vargas clan  _ right now _ , or you and your boyfriend listen to the… _ proposal _ I have first."

Ludwig audibly choked. _Boyfriend?!_ _Proposal?!_

Veneziano turned a rare scarlet. "He's  _ not _ my boyfriend. You know perfectly well  _ why _ ."

And then Ludwig realized where he had heard  _ that tone _ before. He heard it when Francis once defended Arthur. When  _ Großvater _ used to scold Gilbert. When Elizabeta stood up for Roderich.  _ That tone _ … It was…  _ Protective _ . Which implied that Veneziano… _ loved  _ him in some capacity?! Did Veneziano see him as more than a friend?! Did that mean he had a reason to  _ not _ ask Ludwig out?! Did that mean if Veneziano  _ could _ , he  _ would?! _ What the hell was going on?!

"Ah,  _ sì _ ," Luciano muttered. "You're still waiting for—"

"Don't you  _ dare say his name! _ " Veneziano shrieked, and if Ludwig didn't know any better, he would have said that even the usually stoic Luciano flinched.

Ludwig gulped. "V-veneziano…" He had never seen his friend furiously shaking like this, and honestly, it scared him a little.

Veneziano whirled on him. And stopped at the sight of Ludwig. Veneziano blinked. Once. Twice. Then he shut his eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled. Slowly, he unclenched his fists, and when he finally opened his eyes again, his countenance had calmed down just enough that Ludwig knew he wasn't going to lash out. Now, all of this happened probably under twenty seconds, but they were easily the longest twenty seconds of Ludwig's life.

"Fine," Veneziano finally snapped, his shoulders still tense. He walked around to Ludwig's side of the table and sat to Ludwig's left. (Ludwig's right was closer, but according to tradition, only the Queen or the King's wife sits to the right of the King.)

Veneziano gestured vaguely across the table towards the seat he just vacated. "Sit," he ordered his cousin tersely.

If Ludwig didn't know any better, he would have said that even Luciano had breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now," Veneziano sighed when Luciano sat down. "What is it that you want,  _ cousin dearest _ ?"

Again, if Ludwig didn't know any better, he also would have said that Luciano flinched at the acid-laced endearment.

Luciano straightened, quickly clearing his throat. "I wanted to talk to King Ludwig actually," he said in a businesslike tone. "But," he was quick to add, "since it concerns our family, I thought you might like to hear it too." And Ludwig couldn't help but think that perhaps he and Luciano had something in common: when distressed, Luciano slipped into a cold business mode. It was in that moment that Ludwig's respect for the current head of the Vargas family business grew.

"If it's about Romano, I already knew about that," Veneziano snapped. And Ludwig found himself nodding as well. Romano Vargas now made a third disappearance. Again, still no body: only bloodied clothes. Still just as distressing though. In fact, that come to think of it, Natalya had looked as if she had been up all night…

"Actually…" Luciano began carefully, "it's about Lovina di Cuore."

Ludwig watched the color drained from Veneziano's face. "Are you  _ serious?  _ _ Now _ _?! _ "

Luciano squeezed his eyes shut. He looked like he was bracing himself. " _ Prozia _ Hersilia says it's the perfect time for him to—"

" _ Antonio is in no condition for this! _ " Veneziano screamed, slamming his hands on the table and standing up to shove his face in his cousin's direction.

_ Antonio? In no condition for what? What did  _ _ he _ _ have to do with any of this? _

"Wait!" Ludwig said quickly, before either Italian could keep talking and he ended up even more lost. He had so many questions… "Who's Lovina di Cuore?" There, he started simple.

Luciano looked at Veneziano.  _ Why? For help? No way _ … But Veneziano only sat back down, picked up his coffee mug, and glared back in silence.

Luciano sighed, turning back to Ludwig. "Lovina di Cuore is… Well, she's a Vargas."

"One of too many," Veneziano grumbled into his coffee. "We breed like rabbits."

If Ludwig had been drinking his own coffee, he likely would have choked.

Luciano sighed. " _ Anyway _ , we Vargases aren't always Vargases by name," he continued. (Now,  _ this _ tone, Ludwig could name: it was family pride.) "For us, name doesn't matter. If you are a Vargas, you are a Vargas either by blood or by wine."

Ludwig blinked. "By wine?"

Veneziano rolled his eyes, setting down his coffee. "He means marriage. There's a Vargas tradition involving wine at our weddings. An overly complicated one, if you ask me."

Ludwig nodded. It made sense that wine was so important to the Vargases. After all, it was the Vargas family vineyards that provided their famous quality wine for all of Kartoj. Mattias's shop was just one of many examples.

"Wine is actually the concern here," Luciano said. "In fact, when I used the word 'proposal' earlier, that was probably the most literal word for it."

"Oh don't do it…" Veneziano muttered, pressing his eyelids into his palms and resting his elbows on the table.

"In the name of the Vargas family," Luciano announced, "I propose that your Ace of Hearts, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, marries our Lovina."

Ludwig was stunned into silence, but he heard Veneziano's head hit the table.

"Oh my God…" Veneziano mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the table. And offhandedly, Ludwig realized that Veneziano was probably referencing one of those internet things that Gilbert called "memes."

Ludwig quickly cleared his throat. "Yes, well, is she aware of this… arrangement?"

"Oh yes," Luciano chuckled, and again, if Ludwig didn't know any better, he would have said that that was nervous laughter. "She's also not happy about it."

Veneziano snorted. "Is she ever happy about  _ anything? _ "

The look on Luciano's face said something along the lines of  _ Fair enough. _

Ludwig sighed. "Well, I don't know. Wouldn't it be bad timing to have one of our Aces getting married instead of them all working on these disappearances? And Veneziano was right in saying that Antonio will likely be in no condition to do this. Romano meant a lot to him; he will need some time to recover before throwing such a bomb."

"Dropping," Veneziano corrected. "It's  _ dropping _ a bomb, not  _ throwing _ ." (By the way, his head was still on the table.)

Luciano rolled his eyes. "No one cares,  _ cugino _ ."

"My point is," Ludwig interrupted, "Neither Antonio nor Miss...?"

"...di Cuore," Veneziano supplied wearily.

"Miss di Cuore, thank you," Ludwig continued, "seem up to this. So why should either of them do it?"

Luciano nodded. He was a businessman, after all. He knew a good point when he heard one. But it also meant he had prepared a counter-argument. "Actually, we think now would be a good time. The disappearances are scaring people, so they need something to look forward to. A wedding is a perfect happy occasion. And it's not like we're expecting them to get married right away. No, we just want them to announce their engagement."

"And then what?"

"And then, if they don't find it  _ too _ unreasonable, have Lovina move in with Antonio."

"What?!  _ Why? _ "

"Well duh," Veneziano said sarcastically. He had finally picked up his head to give a resigned but still disgruntled look. "If they're going to be engaged, they have to play the part."

"And of course, we'll give him the traditional Vargas family welcome. Food and dance and all that happy sappy crap."

Veneziano snorted. "Says the Vargas cousin who's happily married. Some of us are still horribly horribly single."

In the midst of their banter, however, Ludwig could already feel himself starting to make a final decision. But one thing still bothered him.

"Why are you talking to me about this?" he asked. "The one you should be asking is Antonio."

Luciano turned to him. "We felt that it was best that you were aware of it. Plus," And Luciano smirked a little here, "He'll probably be more easily guilted into it if he felt like he was performing a royal duty."

And here, Ludwig frowned. "Well that's a little…underhanded."

Luciano only shrugged. "Well, we're pulling the same card on Lovina. So really, it's a match made in Heaven." And with a little lean forward, Luciano folded his hands and put them on the table. "So, King of Hearts, what do you say?"

Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut. Well, what  _ could _ he say? No matter what he chose, people were still going to be so upset with his decision…

Too bad that as King, he had to make these kinds of decisions all the time.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a beautiful summer day in July. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the skies were clear… And outside in a Royal palace courtyard, two Vargas brothers were fighting over wine. Truly, a normal day in Kartoj’s Hearts Kingdom.

“I'm telling you, white wine fits in with the weather!” Flávio was saying. “It complements the whole summer aesthetic better, especially with the softer colors associated with a summer nights palette!”

“But it is  _ tradition _ to serve red wine at a Vargas wedding,” Luciano reminded him. “Since you're obsessed with appearances and such.”

“But white wine is sweeter and  _ totally _ fits Antonio’s sweet personality…” Flávio sighed. “It's so not fair. Lovina lands such a  _ gorgeous _ groom, with an ass so beautiful it's a shame he had to sit on it…”

Luciano wished he was used to his brother’s perverseness, but no. “In any case,” he interrupted, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Red wine is more versatile. It's more likely to match the food.”

“… _ our _ family restaurant is the one doing the catering, stupid. If the wine doesn't fit the menu,  _ we can change the freaking menu _ .”

“Will you two SHUT THE  _ HELL _ UP?!” And both the Vargas brothers flinched.

“Lovina—” Flávio tried.

“Do  _ not _ tell me that you're still trying to push your stupid ‘white wine is so much better’ crap! Especially after your dieting phase?  _ You _ of all people should know that red wine is healthier than white!”

“Not that I drink it for the  _ health benefits _ …” Luciano mumbled.

“I'm shocked with you,  _ cugino _ ,” Lovina snapped at Flávio.

“Yeah but Lovina—”

“It's  _ my _ goddamn wedding, Flávio! I’ve already decided on the menu too, so you and your stupid white wine  _ can suck my _ —”

Luciano wisely decided to interrupt. “ _ Ahem _ , so, what’s on the menu, Lovina? As per tradition, we need three courses—”

“A soup or salad, the main dish, and dessert.  _ I know _ ,” Lovina snapped. (Luciano was just thankful that she didn’t kill him for interrupting.) “We’re going to serve tapas as people are coming in. I’ll leave it to Antonio to decide which foods the guests can pick from.”

Flávio blinked. “Um, what?”

Lovina rolled her eyes. “Tapas are like a bunch of finger foods out on different platters so you can pick and choose which to snack on.”

“So the guests have something while they wait for their friends  _ and _ for the first course.” Luciano nodded with approval. “Smart move.”

“Thank you, now,” Lovina continued. “The first course will be gazpacho, and the main dish will be paella.”

Flávio tilted his head. “Is that a seafood thing, or—?”

“NO!” And even Luciano flinched at the violent answer. “Antonio _ hates _ seafood with a burning passion!” Lovina shrieked. Then, taking a deep breath, she continued more softly. “Sorry, but seafood was all he ate in his pirate days. He’s quite sick of it now…”

Luciano took a deep breath. “So, yes, well, paella sounds nice. And for dessert?”

“And dessert will be another display like the tapas. This dessert bar will be out during the dancing portion of the night and will include foods like crema catalaña, ponche segoviano, and mantecado.”

Luciano nodded. “I see. So that people that don’t want to dance—”

“—or don’t have dates to  _ dance with _ during slow songs—” Flávio grumbled.

“—have something to do instead.” Luciano gave Lovina an approving look. “It’s brilliant planning, yes. So that just about settles every—”

“WAIT!” Flávio exclaimed. He turned to Lovina. “Are you sure about red wine? I mean, do you even  _ know  _ what Antonio likes?”

Lovina turned red in the face. And before anyone could blink, the fingerless glove on Lovina’s left hand was off, and there was fire surrounding Flávio. Appropriately, he screamed and tried to pat out the flames on his clothing, but thankfully for Flávio’s sorry ass, Veneziano happened to pass by.

“ _ Sorella _ ! Someone could see!” He rushed out of the Castle and grabbed Lovina’s wrist.

Lovina blinked, realized what she was doing, and panicked.

The flames flared.

“Deep breath… There we go… Good,” Veneziano coached gently. Lovina squeezed her eyes shut and growled, angrily shoving her hand back in her glove.

The flames died out completely.

“Goddammit…” she hissed. “I lost control again…”

Oddly enough, it was Flávio who offered support. “Hey, look at me! None of my clothes actually got burned, so maybe on some subconscious level, you knew to keep the fire close enough to freak me out, but not so close that there’s any damage. That’s impressive!”

Veneziano glared at his cousin as he gave Lovina a comforting hug. “And?”

“And besides,” Flávio quickly added. “ It was my fault for setting you off… Lovina, I’m sorry. You said you wanted new clothes now that you’re back. I’ll make it up to you! I promise! Gelato on me?”

Lovina stared for a little, then she sighed. “Fine. We’ll go shopping.” They shook hands, the traditional Vargas sign of accepted apologies, respect and the acknowledgement of the other as an equal.

“As for the whole wine thing,” Veneziano began, and the other two tensed. “Why don’t you just serve both?  _ And _ , if you want to keep up with that whole Spanish thing, why not make them sangrias?”

Lovina and Flávio blinked. Once. Twice. And they stared at Veneziano. Mostly he was so ridiculously childish most of the time, it was easy to forget how intelligent he actually was… After all, few people outside of the Vargas clan knew just  _ how _ scary smart  _ this _ Vargas cousin was…

Veneziano frowned. “Hey, where did Luciano go?”

The three of them looked up, and there he was, a little ways off, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Luciano sighed at the sight of them, and the three waited. Because there was an old rule between the Vargas cousins: if the phone rings when you’re out with your family, and it’s your significant other on the other end…

“Hey girl, behave,” Luciano warned. “You’re on speaker.”

All four Vargas cousins could hear the smirk in the response. “Or what, you’ll spank me?”

See, the most wonderful thing about Luciano’s wife Liesel-Maria was the fact that she loved to embarrass Luciano just as much as his cousins did. And so, Luciano choked with embarrassment, Flávio gagged, Veneziano burst out laughing, and Lovina  _ literally picked Luciano up and tossed him _ back into the mansion…

Ah, what a day it was to be a Vargas. What a day indeed…

* * *

 

Rose was tired. Staying up all night  _ and _ being a telepath surrounded by people probably didn’t help matters at all. But the Shadow was going to run loose through all of Kartoj the minute the last of them reverted back to being a girl. She  _ needed _ to have a containment and banishment spell up and running pronto. She didn't have  _ time _ to sleep. Unfortunately, the others couldn’t help her. Not now, at least. Natalya had to maintain her cover with the other Aces, Vasile had literature studies to teach, and an overprotective Halle had gone home to check that her little brother was safe in bed. So, it was up to Rose herself to do research. But Vasile actually wound up helping her with that part.

“Queen Elise’s literature lesson is in the Diamond Castle,” he said as they walked through a busy outdoor market to said Castle. His thoughts, meanwhile, wondered if the overprotective Jack of Diamonds ever let his little sister out in public…

“Vasile,” a cranky Rose warned, and somewhere, just out of Rose’s notice, a farmer yelped at the murderous look on her face. “Just get to the point  _ please _ .”

Vasile wasn’t fazed by her rudeness at all. In fact, he rolled his eyes. “Always such a Little Miss Sunshine. You know, it’s your fault for not falling asleep.”

Rose glared.  _ Damn half-vampire runs on random thirty minute power naps. It's not fair. _

“Fine, fine,” Vasile sighed, waving in the direction of some giggling girl. “So the Diamond Castle library is just as extensive as the one back at the Spades Castle. Maybe there's some old spellbook you can find there.”

“But why here? I'd rather  _ not _ be anywhere  _ near _ the Diamonds right now…”  _ More specifically, near that  _ _ frog _ _. _

“I know, I know. But it's not like you want to go to the Spades Castle right now either.”

No. No, she did not. “Fine. But only because I don't want Alfred to get the shock of his life. I'm not sure how much he remembers of what I told him about magic…”

“Yeah,” Vasile agreed, sending a crooked grin to another giggling girl. “And it's probably best that you girls reveal yourselves to the public on your own terms. When you're better prepared to deal with the press and all that.” It was an oddly serious statement, considering Vasile’s mind was only half-focused. The other half was focused on yet another giggling girl.

“And when we're not busy trying to contain the Shadow,” Rose added. “I don't need the stress of stupid muggles breathing down my back in the meantime.”

Rose’s telepathy sensed Vasile’s attention perking up. “…muggles?” Vasile chuckled.

Rose stopped. “ _ That's  _ what you got out of that whole speech?”

“I teach literature, Rosie,” Vasile replied, grinning mischievously when Rose bristled at the nickname. “I have a tendency to appreciate whatever literary references come my way.”

When he winked over her shoulder at yet another giggling girl, Rose rolled her eyes. “Natalya’s going to kill you when she realizes just how flirtatious you are.” Because honestly. Even Vasile’s soulmate was better than her own…

But, strange creature that Vasile was, the idea of a painful imminent death was met with only a casual shrug.

“You know something?” Vasile mused. “Because of my vampire genes, I’m naturally more  _ alluring  _ than most people.” He winked at yet  _ another _ giggling girl to prove his point. “But Natalya? She’s not affected by  _ any _ of that. Which is what makes her so interesting…” And Rose lost him again, this time to the daydreams about his beautiful soulmate.

Rose scowled, and somewhere, still out of her notice, people walked quickly out of the scary woman’s way. “ _ The point _ ,” she snapped, “is that the Shadow is a powerful nightmare creature. So we need to be as prepared as possible to contain  _ and _ banish it. No cozying up to Frenchmen allowed.”

And poor Rose realized her mistake too late. “Funny you say that,” Vasile grinned. “I didn't say anything about Frenchmen…”

And in her head, she cursed violently. “Well, you know,” she replied a little too shakily for her liking. “It's the Diamond kingdom. And since the people in the Castle are required to speak French—”

“But there's only one French _ man _ ,” Vasile pointed out. He gave Rose an interested look. “Don't tell me you meant His Majesty—”

“Francis is a prat and a git!”

Vasile raised an eyebrow, and Rose didn't like the look on Vasile’s face. “Well, look at you!” he said knowingly. “You're already on a first name basis with the Diamond King!”

Rose lowered her voice darkly. “I am—well,  _ was _ —the Queen of Spades,” she hissed, checking to make sure no one could hear her. “His  _ equal _ in status, wealth, and every other way. Of course I would be.”

“But even then, you always called him such wonderful things. ‘That sodding tosser,’ for example. Or ‘that bloody stupid frog.’ You never used his real name. Not unless it was business. And even then, you always left Alfred to deal with him whenever you could. So, what changed?”

Rose huffed and marched across the moat towards the Diamond Castle door. She was Victoria Jane Elizabeth Alice Rosaline Kirkland, for God’s sake! She didn’t have to answer that if she didn’t want to do so. Besides, she had a job to do! And if he wanted to gossip like an old lady instead of being helpful, then so be it. She didn’t have  _ time _ for all this happy, sappy crap. 

Vasile was unperturbed as Rose tried to rush away from him. “You found your soulmate,” he smirked. “Didn't you, Rosie?”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped. Rose could feel the blood rushing to her face. “And no,” she added a little too quickly. “I'm just saying that the Diamond Castle is going to be full of partiers. And since I need to do research, I need as few distractions as possible! And  _ that _ is  _ all _ .”

At this point, she was at the door of the Diamond Castle, and she was surprised to see—

“Bram?” Vasile asked before Rose could react. “I thought you'd still be with your wife?”

The tall Dutchman looked up and grimaced, pulling the end of his pen out of his mouth. “Well, I  _ would _ be, but she  _ insisted _ that I go back to work. Said something about loving me very much, but the people of the Diamond kingdom needed me more.” He sighed, closing his eyes, and the corner of his mouth curved a bit. “She's so selfless, isn't she?” He put the end of his pen back in his mouth, and Rose was stunned. That was about as dreamy as the stoic Ace of Diamonds ever got, and besides, Bram was never usually this talkative.

“Um…yes…she…is?” Rose replied slowly. Not because she was dumbfounded, but because every good British spy knows how to play the part she's given. And right now, she had to play the part of a stranger who knew nothing about how this kingdom worked. Meanwhile, Bram gave her a scrutinizing look, his frowning mouth curving around the end of the pen. But with Rose’s years of training, her face gave him nothing but “genuine” confusion.

“Ah, yes,” Vasile jumped in. “Rosie, this is Bram Van Dijk, the Ace of Diamonds. As Ace, his jobs is to manage Castleguards, interrogate criminals, investigate… That kind of thing.”

Rose nodded accordingly. “I see… Like a policeman. Or something or other?”

A strange look flickered across Bram’s face, and he pulled the pen out of his mouth. “You know, I've never thought of it like that… But essentially, yes. Although, perhaps it would probably be more accurate to say ‘Captain of the Guard.’” He turned to Vasile. “Now, Vasile, I know who you are and all that. But you know the whole pass thing is a formality.” Bram put the pen back in his mouth.

“Right, right,” Vasile said, rummaging around and pulling the required (albeit crumpled) papers out of his pocket. “Here you are, Bram.”

Bram was annoyed with the disorganization and the condition of the papers, but according to Bram’s thoughts, Vasile’s papers were always like this. Pulling the pen out of his mouth, he sighed and tried to smooth out the papers as he inspected them.

“What exactly are the papers for?” Rose asked. After all, to Bram, she was a stranger to Kartoj. She wouldn't know about the papers.

“Yeah, the papers,” Vasile replied. “They're technically called ‘passes,’ but yeah, they're papers. They're a security measure. There's basic information on them: your name, why you're here, who you're seeing. There's also credentials, if you're an inspector or doctor or something. But most importantly, there's your approval sheet, which not only says who approved your access to the Castle, but it also has a timesheet that keeps track of how often you come here. It's all really boring stuff, but you can't get in the Castle without all of it.”

_ Through any of the main entrances, anyway, _ Rose thought wryly.  _ You can climb in through the upstairs windows just fine... _

“There you go, Vasile,” Bram finished reading through everything and wrote the current date and time in the appropriate box. “Did you also want me to write up a guest pass for your…?”

He gestured vaguely towards Rose, wondering if she was family of Vasile's or a friend or if she was his soulmate. Apparently, he had noticed that the words on Vasile’s wrist were now scarlet, as they were black yesterday. And since her words were scarlet as well...

_ Good _ , Rose noted, quite pleased with his performance.  _ He’s just as well-trained as every Academy graduate should be. _ Although, Rose almost  _ wished _ Vasile was her soulmate. Because her  _ actual _ soulmate…  _ Ugh _ …

“Oh! Right!” Vasile exclaimed, bringing Rose back to the issue at hand. “Rosie—”

“ _ Quit calling me  _ _ Rosie _ ,” she snapped.

“—is my friend. And my colleague, but the  _ friend _ part is more important.”

Bram’s brow furrowed as he slipped the pen back in his mouth. “I see,” he mumbled around the pen. “Then who  _ is _ the lucky lady, Vasile?” And Rose was surprised to see these two were friends. Mostly because it seemed like such a random match-up. But then again, Vasile taught here practically everyday. They would have talked eventually, she supposed.

Vasile looked startled. “Wait, how did you kno—”

“Your words are red,” Bram sighed. “And since they weren’t yesterday…”

Vasile looked sheepish. “Oh…right,” he replied, and Vasile got that _damned dreamy_ _look_ on his face again. “Your lovely colleague, actually. Natalya ‘Beautiful’ Arlovskaya. Queen of my Heart, and I will love her until the end…”

Bram pursed his lips around the pen in discomfort, and Rose decided she’d had enough.

“ _ Vasile _ ,” she snapped.

And  _ thankfully _ , Vasile snapped back to reality. “Oh right. Yeah. A guest pass would be great, Bram. Thanks.”

Bram sighed in relief as he handed Vasile his papers back. He took out a pad of blank passes from his uniform coat pocket. “Now ma’am, I'm going to ask you for some basic information.” He took the pen out of his mouth. “Now, what is your full name?

Fortunately—or perhaps  _ un _ fortunately—Rose had been lying about her identity for too long to be unprepared for these kinds of questions.

“Fairchild,” Rose replied smoothly. “Rose Fairchild.” The name wasn’t a complete lie about who she was. She was part Fair Folk, after all.

Bram wrote the name in the appropriate box. “And what is your business here?”

“Vasile is showing me around Kartoj. Since I have already seen the Spades Castle, Vasile thought I ought to see the other Castles as well.”

Bram paused in writing to look up with furrowed eyebrows. “So you're a tourist?”

Rose blinked in “genuine” surprise. “Oh no, not at all! I moved recently. I got my own apartment here in Kartoj, and I plan on finding a job here, possibly teaching at Cardsmen Academy.” And again, not a complete lie: she had long since acquired an apartment when she had taken the throne as Queen. It was her personal getaway from the Castle, and now that she wasn't Arthur anymore, she could use that apartment to its fullest.

As for working at Cardsmen Academy… (Only the locals called it simply the Academy.) That wasn't a lie either. Because Alfred had graduated early to take the throne, some of the Academy kids often visited, usually seniors asking something along the lines of “So how'd you do it? How'd you graduate so fast?” So she and Alfred had often worked, running extra lessons and workshops.

“I see…” Bram looked interested. Well, as interested as Bram could look. But because her telepathy, Rose knew he was curious. “What would you teach?”

“Well, I was a literature professor like Vasile is now. But I could just as easily teach history or a foreign language.”

“A multifaceted woman,” Bram observed, and Rose noted that he noticed her choice in words. He noticed that Rose didn't specify which language. Or perhaps it was  _ multiple  _ languages…

* _ He has no idea just  _ _ how _ _ multifaceted _ …* Vasile thought wryly to himself. After all, most people didn’t really invest in trying to channel Kartojian magic anymore…

“I am, thank you,” Rose replied smoothly, ignoring Vasile’s chuckling in her brain.

“You're welcome, Miss Fairchild. You’re going to need all that talent in order to get a job working with our Academy students.” Bram handed her the pen and pad of paper. “Now, if you'll just sign here?”

Rose skimmed over the terms and conditions. She already knew what they said because the Spades ones said essentially the same thing: the standard “please don’t steal stuff even if it looks cool,” or the “there are cameras around the building, and we aren’t afraid to check them” and even the “if you have any questions, please see the bored servants that need something to do.” (Of course, it was written more formally, but that was always how Sadiq explained the rules on the passes.) But the Diamond passes had  _ one _ thing that made Rose pause.

“I have to speak in  _ French _ ?” she asked. Carefully, of course. To sound disgusted or perturbed would draw suspicion.

Rose could have sworn that Bram chuckled. “Well, not necessarily. You only have to speak French if you're going to talk to the King. And if you don't speak French, we have bilingual staff on hand to translate. But since I doubt you'll run into His Majesty, I doubt there will be need of it…” He tilted his head. “I guess it must be true then.”

For once, Rose’s confusion was genuine. “What is?”

Bram smirked a bit. “That all English people hate French.”

Rose immediately scowled. “Not all of them actually.”

And here, both Bram and Vasile were surprised. “Oh?”

Rose grew bitter for a second. “My father thought the ability to speak French was the mark of a proper young lady…”  _ Ugh _ .

Bram took this in. “So you  _ do _ speak French?”

Now here, Rose had a decision to make. She knew she had to set herself apart from Arthur, who  _ refused _ to speak French. And she could very well refuse it as well, but she  _ had _ to establish that she and Arthur were different people. So with a heavy heart, she sealed her fate.

“ _ Malheureusement _ ,” she replied.  _ Ugh _ .

Her disgust must have shown on her face, because Bram actually looked amused.

“Wow, do you not like French… I hope for your sake then, you don’t run into the King.”

He said that as a joke, but as Rose signed the pass and Bram let the two of them into the Castle, she couldn’t help hope that she wouldn’t see the King either.


	9. Chapter 9

Vasile was right, Rose had to admit: the Diamonds  _ did _ have an extensive library. And—she was loath to admit—the place was beautiful. Sure, it was unnecessarily posh, but it wasn't  _ so _ decorative that it was… Oh what was the word Alfred used... _ overkill _ ? She could have done without the high vaulted and painted ceilings, the random fireplaces, the marble floors, the tall windows, the plush velvet chairs, and the mahogany and gilded lining _ everywhere _ … But somehow, she didn't mind them. Somehow, they all managed to blend together nicely enough that it didn't detract from the beauty of the place.

Rose explored the first floor. (For reconnaissance purposes, of course. It's not like she genuinely appreciated the beauty of this French place. That would be  _ absurd _ .) The strangest thing about the library wasn't the aura of magic—because old Kartojian buildings usually did—nor was it the enchanted swords on the wall—again, old building. No, the strangest thing about the library was the way it was organized. It wasn’t some eccentric setup that made sense only to some *ahem* … _ creative _ mind. Nor was it organized by something arbitrary like color or the number of pages. No, the kicker was the fact that it was organized _ at all _ .

And then, as she explored further, she figured out  _ how _ it was organized. Children’s stories were downstairs, teenage novels were upstairs, and adult books were behind closed doors in a separate room upstairs. But regardless of age group, fiction was in the front half of the building, and nonfiction was in the back. After that, it was organized by topic, then alphabetically by author. And then each author’s books were organized by publication dates, rather than by title. That way, if the author had written a series, then the series was in order. And on top of that, taped to the shelf next to every series was a laminated card with a list of the whole series in chronological order.

All in all, it was a convenient system. A very convenient  _ familiar _ system… Wait a tick, it was exactly how the Spades library was organized! After all, it was Rose—well,  _ Arthur _ , technically—who invented the system for the Spades library… But what was that system doing  _ here _ ? Francis  _ hated _ Arthur and everything he did…didn't he?

But all of that left Rose’s head when she heard immensely distressed thoughts. A child’s, she could tell, from the sheer lack of coherent words. Older people were easy to figure out because they were capable of thinking to themselves. With  _ children _ however… It was more like being able to sense their emotions, but they only made sense in context. But no matter what the context in this case was, she  _ had _ to see if this child was okay. After all, there was an overwhelming sense of feeling lost… Why was this child lost in a giant library? Who in the  _ hell _ was irresponsible enough to  _ lose their bleeding  _ _ child _ _?! _ (And no, no she did not take this personally because of sympathy. It had  _ nothing _ to do with the fact that her older brothers had lost  _ her _ enough times. No, of course not—)

There, in the middle of the princess part of the children’s fiction section, was a small girl in a pink pea coat, her pretty blonde hair in a crumpled-looking bow that hung loosely on one side of her face. Her glasses were smudged with tears, and she was miserably looking around, squeezing a hairbrush and… For God’s sake, was that  _ a box of bobby pins _ ?! But the little girl had horribly tangled hair, as pretty as it was. And Rose immediately pieced together the source of the little girl’s frustration.  _ She was looking for someone to do her hair _ .

And before Rose realized what she was doing, she was on one knee in front of the little girl. “Hello there,” she said gently.

The little girl quickly went from teary and scared to…well, even more teary and scared. And scared little thoughts began bulleting throwing her brain. Fortunately, Rose—well, technically Arthur—had lived with Alfred since forever, so she'd had more than enough experience with a quick brain. And this little girl was panicking. Not because of stranger danger, no of course not. Because this girl was  _ French _ . And she spoke  _ only French _ . But then again, this  _ was _ the Diamonds kingdom. And this  _ was _ only a little girl…

Rose sucked up her pride and said, “ _ Comment t’appelles tu? _ ”

The little girl stopped sniffling. According to the poor poppet’s memories, strangers only ever talked to her in English, which she hardly understood…. “ _ Je… Je m’appelle Marianne _ .”  There, nicely and politely, just like her big sister. But then nervousness set in again when little Marianne realized that her big sister wouldn’t have stuttered…

Rose was mad all over again. The poor thing was _so young_ , and she was already comparing herself to other girls! Rose had been down that road before… So she saved the poor thing from her own thoughts. “Marianne,” Rose repeated, and in French she asked, “ _What seems to be the matter?_ ”

And Marianne’s lip was trembling all over again. “ _ I couldn’t find my big brother to help me fix my hair! _ ” she exclaimed in rapid French. “ _ I know he’s always busy, so I thought I could do it by myself! But now I look horrible, so I thought I could find him somewhere, and I… I… _ ” And Marianne dissolved into tiny little sobs.

Rose moved toward her slowly. She tapped the hairbrush. “ _ May I try? _ ”

Marianne looked at her with wide hopeful blue eyes… And Rose’s heart jumped; she was suddenly reminded of Alfred… It must have been the glasses. But Marianne shyly gave her the brush and turned around. And Rose set herself to work, relaxing herself in the familiar task of untangling hair. She untied the ribbon and gently loosened knots with her fingers first.

“ _ You have such nice hair _ ,” Rose commented.

Marianne sighed. “ _ But it’s so messy… _ ”

“ _ Maybe right now _ ,” Rose gently allowed. After all, polite saccharine lies were the worst, especially at such a vulnerable time. “ _ But we can fix it _ ,” she continued quickly. And because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “ _ All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust _ .” And, holding the little girl’s hair in one hand and discretely conjuring a small spell in the other, Rose tossed a sprinkle of glitter into the air around Marianne.

Her mind surged with amazement. “ _ How did…? Is it true then? Magic really  _ does _ exist?! _ ”

And that surprised Rose, and thankfully, she didn’t suddenly jerk the brush in Marianne’s hair in surprise. But still… Sure, there were people who definitely _hated_ magic… All those “accidents” all those years ago proved that much. But it was a general consensus that it at least existed at some point, most people believing it dead or rare due to technology. But magic practically _built_ Kartoj! For a modern Kartojian to deny the existence of magic was like giving a tour of Paris without mentioning the Eiffel Tower: you could do it, sure, but why would you?

…blood and thunder, did she seriously just compare magic to  _ the most French city in the world _ ? She made a mental note to check her temperature, read Shakespeare or some Victorian era novel, and drink a lot of tea later… All this French was getting to her head.

But, back to the present. “ _ Who said it didn’t? _ ” she couldn’t help but ask. At this point, all the tangles were gone, and she could run the brush smoothly through Marianne’s hair.

“ _ My big brother said that people would be better off without magic, _ ” Marianne sighed, and confusion filled her young mind again. “ _ But my big sister said that someone close to him got hurt because they thought she was a witch. _ ”

Rose blinked. Well, that made sense at least. The last witch hunt and burning was only five years ago… “ _ But what do  _ _ you _ _ think, Mademoiselle Marianne? _ ” Rose asked as she parted Marianne’s hair for a braid.

And Marianne was amazed again. Apparently, only her family ever asked for her opinion. No one else cared to ask what she wanted… “ _ Well, Teacher says magic is important to our history. Magic was for helping sick people and staying safe. So I really don’t understand why witches have to be scary. _ ”

Cute  _ and _ smart. Rose was really starting to like this girl. “ _ People are just scared of what they don’t understand. Or of what they can’t control _ .” Rose began to braid Marianne’s hair. In a French braid, of course. This was the Diamond kingdom, after all.

Marianne’s brain bloomed with a little bit of understanding. “ _ Oh! It’s like how I used to be scared of the dark because I couldn’t see anything. But then my big brother gave me a nightlight! He also reads me bedtime stories since my big sister is usually with her friends! _ ”

Rose paused in her braiding. Typical Frenchie. Partying too much to spend time with such an adorable little sister… But that older brother…

“ _ I thought he was always busy? _ ” Rose couldn’t help but ask as she continued the braid.

“ _ He  _ always  _ makes sure he has time for me. I can tell that he's tired sometimes. He works a lot, but we always cook together on Saturday mornings! And he always likes singing with me, and I love it when he teaches me how to dance like a lady, _ ” Marianne smiled fondly. “ _ I love my big brother. Very much. _ ”

“ _ He sounds like a good older brother, _ ” Rose commented. Nothing like her own older brothers. Then again, no one in her family was very touchy-feely besides their mother, not even Rose herself. Even  _ she _ was a horrible older sibling: leaving Peter with Timo and Berwald because she knew she couldn't care for him herself… And despite knowing that her older siblings could never care for her either, she still resented them for not being there, so she  _ knew _ Peter would only feel the same way…

“ _ He is a nice big brother! _ ” Marianne was saying. “ _ I just wish he could help me with the ribbon part, _ ” Marianne sighed. “ _ He usually just ponytails my hair and ties the ribbon around it.  _ ‘ _ Just like your big brother _ ,’  _ he always says _ .”

Rose tied off the braid and huffed. “ _Well, he's not not very creative, now is he?_ ” Typical _man_ … Rose glanced up to see a portrait of Lili, the Diamond Queen. Inspiration struck, and she knew what to do with the ribbon. “ _I think it's time you try something new_ ,” she said to Marianne.

Marianne looked curious. “ _ Something new? _ ”

“ _ Turn around, s’il vous plait _ ,” Rose asked gently. When Marianne did so, Rose went out on a limb and gently removed Marianne’s glasses. As she cleaned them of the earlier tear stains, Rose looked the little girl straight in the eye. “ _ And oui, something new. After all, you are beautiful, you are special, and you deserve something different from your siblings. _ ” She gently placed the glasses back on Marianne’s face and smiled softly. “ _ Now, may I see your ribbon? _ ”

Marianne shyly handed her the ribbon, watching as Rose tied the the soft material into a bow. “ _ What are you going to do with it? _ ”

“ _ Box of bobby pins, s’il vous plait _ ,” Rose replied. Marianne gave them. “ _ I’m pinning the ribbon to your bangs. _ ” Finishing with the girl’s hair, Rose leaned back to inspect her handiwork.

Marianne looked at Rose nervously. “ _ How…how do I look? _ ”

Rose smiled. “ _ Well, I think you should see for yourself. _ ” Rose stuck her hand in her pocket and quietly a mirror. She pulled the mirror out and handed to Marianne.

Marianne gasped. And for a while, she was speechless. But Rose knew from her thoughts that she was overjoyed with the results. “ _ I…I’m so pretty! _ ”

Rose shook her head. “ _ You were already pretty. I just helped you to see it too. _ ”

Marianne looked up from the mirror and looked at Rose. “ _ M-merci… _ ” And suddenly, Marianne ran and hugged her.

Rose gently hugged her back. “ _ De rien, petite _ .”

Marianne pulled away, giving Rose a grin, and Rose noticed that some of her teeth were missing, and she even had tiny little baby teeth growing in. Goodness, she was adorable.

“ _ I need to show this to Miss Emma! _ ” And suddenly, Marianne was running excitedly in the direction of the front desk, where Bram’s sister had a dayjob.

Rose smiled, watching the little girl go.

“That was very nice of you,” someone said. Now this voice had startled Rose: a rare thing to do, what with her telepathy. But then again, the owner of this voice was a different kind of witch entirely.

“Don’t go around telling people, LaFayette,” Rose scowled, turning around to face her. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Not really,” Rebecca reminded her gently. “However… If you’ll walk with me?”

Rose accepted, relieved to finally switch back to English. As they walked upstairs, Rose couldn’t help but ask if she couldn’t do some work at the Academy, seeing as Bram would probably check her story for authenticity.

“You’re more than welcome to interview with Gilbert,” Rebecca replied. “And I assume you’re going to continue posing as someone else entirely. Which makes me want to ask something, if you’ll pardon me doing so…”

Rose’s scowl softened. “What is it?” Rose coaxed gently. Because for all her accomplishments, Rebecca LaFayette was still quite young. Alfred’s age, actually. And Rose often forgot that the Academy Headmistress, with all her control over her students and her staff, was actually a very shy person, always extremely polite and afraid of offending someone.

“Well…how long do you plan on keeping up this cover?” Rebecca asked, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m just worried about you is all. I mean, so soon after the witch hunts…”

Rose sighed. “I’m going to pretend to be a Fairchild for as long as I can. After this whole magic disaster blows over, maybe I'll come clean. But for now…”

Rebecca shut her eyes in resignation. “I was afraid of that…”

Rose was surprised. “Why? This isn't my first time lying, you know.”

“I  _ do _ know,” Rebecca replied. “You  _ know  _ I know what it’s like to live a double life.” Rose glanced down. Rebecca was wearing her gloves…

“I know you do,” Rose said. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“Because like  _ my  _ double life…” Rebecca began carefully. “Well, you’ll now have to account for a soulmate.”

Rose blinked. “How did you—?”

Rebecca gave a rare—if small and shy—smirk. “Your words are red.” 

“...oh…” And to think she had just made fun of Vasile for the same mistake…

“But you know what else is funny?” Rebecca mused. “You’re afraid to meet with him again, but—”

In the distance, Rose heard a now-familiar French voice shouting. “ _ Big Brother! Big Brother! _ ” And despite her better judgement, Rose looked down over the balcony, just in time to see Marianne running into the arms of King Francis Bonnefoy himself.

_ Oh shit _ .

* * *

 

And Rose found herself turning and running away again.

Rebecca sighed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for…” And the Headmistress began to walk back downstairs.

When Francis woke up today, he didn’t exactly expect to have an existential crisis. Aside Antonio getting engaged ( _ You’re getting  _ **_what?!_ ** ), his morning was relatively normal: teaching his little sister how to cook breakfast, dropping her off at the library so she could have her lessons with  _ Mademoiselle _ LaFayette, dealing with some paperwork… All in all, a boring morning.

But Francis walked towards the Diamond library, his mind kept turning back to Antonio’s engagement. So soon after Romano disappeared? It couldn’t have been good for Antonio’s state of mind: marrying someone he didn’t even know so soon after someone he loved disappeared. See, Francis had always had this theory that Antonio loved Romano in some capacity. It wasn’t quite romantic: Antonio was too friendly to settle down with a lover. But Antonio’s behavior with Romano… It was about as close to romantic as Francis had ever seen him. Romano was special to Antonio:  _ that _ much was clear. But now Romano was gone, and Antonio would have to bottle all his mourning for Romano just to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch. But Francis was understandably concerned for his friend. It wasn’t healthy to bottle grief. Francis knew that from experience.

A familiar voice broke into his thoughts. “ _ Big Brother! Big Brother! _ ”

Francis instinctively dropped to a crouch as his little sister ran to hug him. “ _ How are you, Marianne? _ ”

Marianne grinned her adorable grin with missing baby teeth. “ _ Look at my hair, Big Brother! Isn’t it pretty? _ ” She even twirled, the adorable girl.

Francis gasped. “ _ Mon Dieu, it’s beautiful! Did Mademoiselle Rebecca do it? _ ”

“ _ Nope! _ ” Marianne smiled. But then it dropped off her face into a look of horror. “ _ Oh no! I'm sorry, Big Brother! I know you know you told me not to talk to strangers, but she was so nice! And she spoke French— _ ”

“ _ Marianne, it's okay! _ ” Francis soothed. “ _ You're not in trouble. _ ” But Francis couldn't help but think that this was weird. Who on earth was this French-speaking stranger who had been so nice to his little sister? Most of the flirts that tried to get to Francis through his sister spoke English…

It was out of Francis’s mouth before he could stop it. “ _ What did she look like? _ ”

“ _ Well, she had blonde hair in pigtails and the prettiest green eyes _ ,” Marianne described. “ _ And she had glasses, just like me! _ ”

And Francis’s heart stopped.  _ No. It couldn’t be… _

“ _ Oh her? _ ” a voice inquired, and Francis looked up to see Emma. “ _ Bram just texted me about her. According to her papers, her name is Rose Fairchild. She just moved, and she plans on seeking a job with the Academy. For now, though, Vasile is showing her around, but since he’s in a lesson and she’s looking for a job with the Academy anyway, Rebecca went to go find her. _ ”

Now, Francis tried  _ so  _ hard not to sound desperate, but he couldn’t help but ask a barrage of questions. “ _ What?! You saw her?! She’s here?! Where?! _ ”

Poor Marianne looked panicked now. “ _ Big Brother? Are you okay? _ ”

Francis suddenly realized what he was doing. “ _ Désolé, it's just that… She's my soulmate. And I have to know why she walked away from me! Is she not as excited to have me as a soulmate? Was she disappointed? I don't get it! _ ”

“ _ Maybe _ ,” Rebecca interrupted. “ _ She’s scared to meet you? So perhaps she’s decided instead to focus on getting that Academy job...? _ ”

Unfortunately, Francis wasn’t listening. “ _ Why do I feel a need to go in this direction...? _ ”

And off he went in the direction of the staircase.

* * *

 

Now, when Rose had finally calmed down, she easily found what she was looking for. It was a section way in the back: the “adult graphic content” section. And since most people were too embarrassed to publicly walk here, she didn’t even have to worry about anyone seeing her break into the locked office behind it. She supposed that, considering where the dark locked office was, most people assumed it was a place for lovers to escape if they couldn’t make it home. But Rose knew the real reason that most people subconsciously avoided the room. The artifacts inside naturally exuded magic, so most modern Kartojians, unfamiliar with the sensation of magic, tended to avoid the weird feeling it gave. And while it saddened Rose that they ignored their natural magical instincts… At least magic wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands.

With a quick unlocking spell, Rose slipped into the room, silently shutting the door behind her. It was dark, but the room sensed the presence of a magic user, so the lanterns along the walls lit up. It was way larger on the inside than it seemed on the outside: structurally, it resembled a lighthouse, with bookshelves spiraling up as far as the eye could see. (Which wasn’t very far. It was still kind of dark, even with the torches.) But neither the eerie environment nor the grand spectacle really fazed Rose. She only felt exhausted because she had a lot of books to look through. She sighed, walking into the center of the circular and mentally summoning a notebook, a pad of sticky notes, and a pencil from her desk in her apartment. Then she spied a broom leaning against a nearby bookshelf.

_ Well, this makes things slightly easier. _ Concentrating, she summoned the broomstick and had it float parallel to the floor. She then sat on it, balancing carefully. Once she was sure she could stay on the broom, she made the broom fly up towards a top shelf. Now, she could technically have made herself float upwards herself, but that would take more of her energy than telling an inanimate object to carry her. Besides, she needed to read and carry multiple books, not to mention take notes: all with her telekinesis. And she was drained enough as it was…

Oh well. No rest for the weary.

* * *

 

Was it hours later? Rose could feel herself start to sway…

_ No. _ She had to keep reading. Especially since she had finally found what she was looking for in the library. At the moment, she had several books floating around her, each open to the same magical creature. She was also telekinetically writing her findings in a notepad, all while maintaining her broom-chair… Normally, using her telekinesis to multitask would have been child’s play. After all, between the Fae blood in her veins and the fact that the Kirklands were once one of the most powerful magical bloodlines in Kartoj… Rose, by every account, was one hell of a powerful witch. But she was still essentially human. And the fact that she hadn’t slept since she had turned back from being Arthur…

**_No._ ** She had a job to do…

_ But why can’t you work from that desk in the corner? _ a voice nagged in her head.

_ Because I haven’t had the full access of my powers in years _ , she shot back.  _ I need to get back to pushing my limits.  _ **_That_ ** _ is how I got this good with magic. _

_ Still. This seems a little excessive _ …

_ But the sooner I get done, the sooner I get to go home and shower. My hair is getting gross, and I can’t just keep summoning clothes from home. And all the laundry I keep sending home… I’m going to have to it at some point… _

…great. She was arguing with herself, when she had so much to do!

_ You know what? Fine. I’ll get down. You win _ . And so, still with her telekinesis, she marked her pages with the sticky notes, shut her notebook, and slipped her mechanical pencil in the spiral binding. Then she mentally summoned a backpack from her apartment, packed her backpack, and slipped it onto the broom handle. Then finally,  _ finally _ , she carefully began to lower the broom to the floor. And yet with all her power and magic ability, only  _ now _ did she begin to feel her energy truly draining.

_ Just a little more… _ she thought to herself. And she pitched all of her concentration towards her descent. She was wobbling a little…

_ Steady…steady… _

See, pushing herself so much meant that she knew her limits. And she knew that she was starting to get to the point where she had to keep all of her focus on maintaining the spell. If anything,  _ anything _ , broke her concentration, everything would shut down.

_ Al…most… _

Almost to the ground or almost to her breaking point? She couldn’t tell anymore… 

Suddenly, the door flung open!

_ How did my telepathy not pick up their presence? _

And at the sight of the person at the door, her brain froze.

Her concentration broke.

The broom, her bag, and she started falling…

And suddenly, the world was black.


	10. Chapter 10

Rose woke up—as one does from a blackout—with a splitting headache.

It didn’t help that there was an alarm screaming in her ears.

_Someone please kill me…_

Much to her dismay, no one came to kill her. But when she finally managed pry her eyes open, she realized that there was morning light coming in through the windows, and the blaring digital clock continued to grate against her pained brain. But she was just in the library, it was nearing midday then! Why was it early morning light? _How long did she sleep?!_ And _wait_ , the room was blurry. And her apartment didn’t have this many windows! So whose bedroom was this? And where were her glasses?

Rose tried to sit up, but she couldn’t really move her left arm. _What the…_? And there, of all people, Marianne was hugging her arm. As far as Rose could tell, the girl was still asleep. So without moving her left arm, she propped herself up on her right arm and squinted around the room. It had a bit of a gold theme, she could tell that much. But as she craned her neck to look around, she recognized the glowing numbers of the (surprisingly modern) digital alarm clock.

 _7:02 AM_.

Next to her, Marianne stirred. She sat up and yawned, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Rose stiffened, but Marianne didn’t look confused to see her at all.

“ _Good morning, mademoiselle!_ ” she chirped happily. The French little girl clambered over the still stunned Rose and slapped her tiny hand on the top of the alarm clock. Marianne then grabbed her glasses off of the nightstand, then she handed Rose her own pair.

“ _Merci_ ,” Rose managed, sitting up and putting on her glasses as well.

“ _De rien,_ ” Marianne hopped off the bed. “ _Mademoiselle, could you please do my hair again today?_ ”

Rose got up, then sunk down to one knee, bowing her head in the Kartojian tradition. “ _But of course, my Lady_.”

Silence—Rose sensed the girl’s confusion—then Marianne understood. What a smart little girl. “ _Rise, Mademoiselle_.” Marianne frowned a little. “ _You know, just because my brother is the King doesn’t mean I want any special treatment_. _I’m just Marianne_.”

Rose stood and looked at her. What a noble notion, truthfully… “ _Well then, Marianne_. _Let’s get your hair done then_.”

Marianne sat down at the mahogany vanity—because of course the French King would have one in his bedroom—and handed Rose a hairbrush. And thus, Rose set herself to work.

After some silence, Rose decided to finally ask. “ _What am I doing here?_ ”

Marianne blinked, meeting Rose’s gaze in the mirror. “ _What do you mean?_ ”

Rose wondered how she could put this in understandable terms. “ _The last thing I remember is being in the library_. _How am I in a bedroom?_ ” She couldn’t help but note that this wasn’t the infamous _Room_. Not that she assumed that every woman the French king came across was brought _there_. She was just surprised was all.

“ _Big Brother found you in the library yesterday. He said you collapsed_ ,” Marianne replied as Rose began to braid her hair. “ _He looked really scared, and he yelled at Mademoiselles Rebecca and Emma to go get help. Then he picked you up and carried you here._ _Dr. Laurinaitis gave you a check-up, and Big Brother was really upset because he found out you weren’t eating and sleeping enough_.”

 _Francis was upset?_ Rose speechlessly tied off Marianne’s braid, unsure of what to say. Sure, whether she liked it or not, the two of them were soulmates. But she hadn’t meant to make him worried… Hell, she didn’t think he _would_ worry.

“ _I slept with you in here because Big Brother wanted to make sure you wouldn’t try to leave without proper food and sleep!_ ” Marianne continued. “ _Now come on! We need to have breakfast!_ ” And as Rose found herself dragged down giant hallways and a cascading stairwell, she wondered just how many small moments like this she missed with Peter.

She didn’t get to watch Peter grow up into the twelve-year-old boy he was now. Not the way she was supposed to. The most she—well, technically Arthur—ever saw of Peter was when they were both attending the Academy. And sure, Peter understood that Arthur was busy with his duties as Queen of Spades, but… Then again, it wasn’t like she had any options. At sixteen, she gave him up to a newlywed Berwald and Timo. At the time, she had run from the old family home, where everyone was unconscious from a memory spell she cast. The spell would wipe their memory of Rose: replacing her with memories of Arthur instead, even going as far as to completely eliminate gender-specific memories and alter all the family records in the house. It was a rather intricate spell, but Rose had put more than enough forethought into it.

She had _needed_ to get four-year-old Peter out of there: her father had spiraled into a mad broken mess after her mother died giving birth to Peter. Her father saw Peter as the reason his soulmate was dead, calling baby Peter every colorful name under the sun. But the name that bothered Rose the most was “accident.” By that time, Rose had lived too long and seen too much to believe that _anything_ or _anyone_ was an accident. And so with her older siblings’ consent (They were all working hard to support themselves and each other), she devised a plan to take Peter far _far_ away from their father, and they agreed that as the only magic user left in the family, only she could pull it off. She cast the spell and made a portal, transporting herself and Peter to Kartoj: a Kingdom once filled with magic and fond stories from their mother. And then—

“ _Big Brother?_ ” Marianne called. And Rose realized that the two of them had stopped outside of what appeared to be an office door. Marianne was wiggling at the door knob, but since the door was locked, it didn’t really do much.

“ _Marianne_ ,” Rose called, gently pulling the girl behind her and putting her ears to the door. Rose carefully listened for any lewd noises to make sure it was safe to open the door with Marianne here. (After all, she didn’t forget the French King’s reputation.) After deeming it safe, she glanced back at Marianne.

“ _May I have a bobby pin from your hair?_ ”

Marianne gave Rose an odd look, but she takes out a bobby pin from her hair and hands it to Rose. “ _What are you doing?_ ”

Rose didn’t answer, focusing instead on her task. Sure, an unlocking spell would have been faster, but this was a Castle. Walls echoed and were paper thin. There were always people watching, and magic would certain alarm some people. And besides, she wanted to see if she still remembered how to do it.

Before Marianne realized what was happening, Rose had successfully picked the lock and flung the door open—

—only to find the French beauty King himself passed out in a pile of paperwork and a puddle of his own drool.

“ _Big Brother?_ ” Marianne sounded worried.

“ _Go on to the kitchen, Marianne_ ,” Rose told the little girl. “ _I’ll get his lazy butt moving_.”

When Marianne left, Rose turned snorted at the sight, and she found herself laughing again. _Dear God, he looked ridiculous_.

* * *

 

The French King’s eyes fluttered open, just in time to see his soulmate laughing.

 _What a change_. The last time he had seen his soulmate, she had landed on top of him, pale as a ghost with dark circles under her eyes. Thérèse would make fun him later for not being strong enough to catch his soulmate, but Francis had been a _little_ preoccupied at the time… He wasn’t sure if he had ever been so terrified in his life. He had just lost Art—His brain choked at the name—and for a second, he had wondered: _what if he lost her too?_

But that was a moot point, now that she was here: rested and happy, laughing at the piece of paper sticking to his face. But he was still waking up—

His soulmate gripped the corner of the paper between her pointer finger and her thumb, and Francis just stared, surprised at how gently she peeled the paper from his face.

 _She probably just doesn’t want to rip it_ . _It has nothing to do with trying not to hurt me…_

He couldn’t stand looking at her for too long. It wasn’t just that she was _unbearably_ pretty.

It was her eyes.

They were too familiar.

 _They were just like Arth_ —

He was ripped out of his train of thought when his soulmate began dabbing at the paperwork on his desk with a handkerchief, and he momentarily wondered what she was doing. That question was quickly answered when she folded the handkerchief over, grabbed him by his hair, and began scrubbing his face with it.

She was rough with him. Her grip on his hair hurt. His lips burned a bit—

She pulled away, a small smirk on her face as Francis stared stupidly at her. “You drool in your sleep,” she said in English. And with that, she sashayed out the door, tossing the handkerchief over her shoulder. It landed on his stunned face.

Francis blinked. It took a little while to collect his thoughts. Because while he had been waiting his whole life to meet his soulmate—the hopeless romantic he was—he never expected her to be so… _so…_

_Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe?_

He shook his head. No, that wasn’t it. It was… Rose _bothered_ him. Francis prided himself in being a people person: capable of easily reading a personality and categorizing them into a general category in his head. For example, Bram van Dijk, Ludwig Beilschmidt and Luciano Vargas were all serious business but could be fun after the right amount of ingested alcohol. Flávio Vargas, Alfred F. Jones, and his own sister Thérèse were social butterflies and had about 200 friends each. Antonio Carriedo Fernández, Sadiq Adnan, and Heracles Karpusi all came off as lazy or self-indulgent, but they were all surprisingly hard-working at their jobs.

But his soulmate… He hadn't seen much of her behaviour, but so far, he couldn’t categorize her. He couldn’t predict her movements. She surprised him at every turn… And that bothered him. Not because it was a bad thing, but because there was only one other person he had that problem with.

But there was no way she was him, no matter how eerily similar they were…

Right?

* * *

 

The Kartojian Castle of Diamonds had seen many a woman flirting with its French King, and it had seen even more of them marching around like she owned the place. But not very many could honestly say that they left him speechless. Which made Victoria Jane Elizabeth Alice Rosaline Kirkland quite proud.

Unfortunately, Rose couldn’t stay smug for very long. A quick thought scan around the Castle gave her a few mental statuses that she was expecting: the occasional guard making a round, a few servants here and there. There Marianne was cooking breakfast with her—surprisingly not-absent, not-hungover and not-sexed-up—older sister Thérèse. And yet, as offputting as sensing Thérèse was, Rose’s heart stopped for an entirely different reason.

There, standing in the Castle’s hallway off all places, was a man that Rose hadn’t seen since… God, how long had it been now? What was he doing _here_?

Either way, Rose had questions, and he probably realized that the minute he saw her. But before he could say anything, she marched up to him, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him into an unoccupied room. After quickly checking her mental radar for eavesdroppers, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“Alistair James Kirkland, what the bloody _hell_ are you doing here?!” she hissed.

A surprised blink. Two. Then the man, pinned by his ghost of a sister against a wall, smirked with amusement. “Hello to you too, little sister,” his light Scottish accent giving his words a familiar color.

Rose, for her part, remained unimpressed. If anything, she gripped his collar tighter.

Alistair sighed, almost rolling his eyes. His thoughts were vaguely amused, like Rose was living up to his expectations. “Well, I did what most people do when they wake up with a new set of memories. I took time off of work to get some answers.”

Rose felt a wave of guilt. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from—”

“ _Rosie_ ,” he interrupted. Rose’s grip on his collar loosened, breath caught in her throat.

There was the _real_ reason she’d yelled at Vasile for that nickname: only her family called her that. And for the past— _how many years now?_ —her family was nothing more than a pile of sad regrets and painful memories.

She let go of him, her hand moving to drop uselessly to the side.

“You’re our _sister_ ,” Alistair continued. He caught her hand and gripped it, as if he was trying to make her understand something. “And we Kirklands have each other. After all,” he smiled bitterly, “we dinnae have anyone else, do we?”

No. They didn’t have anyone else. Because for all their posturing and stubborn pride… Kirklands were used to being alone. They were all such selfless beings to the point where it was a bad thing. They did what they thought was best regardless of how anyone else would feel. Rose knew that better than anyone: all her older siblings worked instead of spending time with their baby sister because they thought that was best. And besides, it’s not like Kirklands were good at expressing how much they care, so they did it through actions rather than words.

Goodness knows that she did the exact same thing with Peter.

_Peter._

_Oh, God, how was she going to tell them she gave up Peter for adoption?!_

“You dinnae have to answer anything now.” Alistair’s voice was surprisingly gentle, and for two seconds, she was reminded of her childhood. Alistair’s fairytales. Dylan’s Welsh lullabies. Seamus and Sinead checking the closet and under the bed for monsters, even though they all knew that if anyone could See actual creatures, it was Rose herself. All of them cuddling with the old family dog when thunderstorms got too loud for comfort.

Rose was surprised. “I don’t?” That was a surprise. Alistair always used to be the most impatient of all of them. And Kirklands in general didn’t like waiting unless they wanted to.

Alistair must have done a lot of growing up these past few years.

 _All_ of the Kirklands must have. Lord knew _she_ did.

“It’d be smarter to wait for the others, anyway,” Alistair shrugged. “That way,” he was smirking now, “you only have to get in trouble once.”

Rose scowled, feeling the urge to punch her brother all over again. “I should have expected that,” she grumbled. “You never were good at being nice for long.”

Alistair smiled a little at that. “I do try, Rosie. Now come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. I heard there was breakfast.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed at her brother’s train of thought. “And by breakfast, you mean Thérèse Bonnefoy.”

Alistair tilted his head. “Is that what the pretty French woman’s name is?”

 _Bloody skirt-chaser_. At least _some_ things hadn’t changed. Their father had screamed at Alistair to hell and back until he quit smoking, so he had turned to women as alternative vice to alcohol and cigarettes.

 _Your mother would be ashamed_ , their father would always say.

 _Yeah?_ Alistair had always grumbled. _She’s also dead._

And then that would start a whole other argument.

Home just wasn’t a good place for any of them.

It was why leaving with Peter had been so important.

“I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” Rose huffed as she began to lead him towards the door. “She is sister to the King of Diamonds.”

Alistair snorted. “And?”

“It’s a dangerous place to be, if you left her like you did the rest.”

Well…” Alistair smirked. “I happened to overhear that a certain Arthur Kirkland was Queen of Spades. I have a royal connection then.”

Rose scowled. “My name is Rose Fairchild. Sir Arthur Kirkland is dead. It would do you good to remember that.”

Alistair’s brow furrowed, and he was silent for a while. Now, if Alistair was the same person she knew as a child, she would have confidently sworn that there was no was he was thinking seriously. But now…

_It’s been so long. Do any of us know each other anymore?_

Finally, Alistair broke the silence. “Everyone I left, as you put it, knew what they were getting into when they came to me. But her…” He shook his head, closing his eyes helplessly. “It feels different, somehow. That’s why I was drawn to this place. I feel like I’m supposed to be here. And finding you here too… It’s like a confirmation. A sign. Or you know… _Something…_ ”

Rose could only nod grimly. “Humanity has a way of messing with the natural order of things. That’s why sometimes, we find ourselves in places we never thought we’d be. Or seeing things we never thought were possible. Those things are simply the universe trying to set the balance right again.”

By now, they had nearly reached the kitchen, where they could hear little Marianne and her sister laughing and conversing lightly in French as the smells and sounds of a delicious breakfast wafted into the halls. Alistair stopped just before the kitchen entrance turning to face his sister.

“In all seriousness, Rosie…” He placed his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes.

* _She’s so much taller now_ …* Alistair thought sadly. * _My baby sister grew up_ …* And both of them suddenly felt the weight of lonely years past. Years they _all_ should have spent together…

 _We have the same eyes_ , Rose suddenly remembered. Only Peter was born with their mother’s blue eyes. The rest of them had Kirkland green. It had been one of the reasons their father had hated Peter so much…

“...I missed you,” Rose finally admitted. She looked down at the tiles next to her brother’s shoes as she felt his arms tense. Kirklands were bad at feelings, after all.

A beat of silence.

Two.

And suddenly, she was wrapped in a strong bearhug. An echo of rare childhood comfort.

“I missed you too, Rosie. I missed you too…”

* * *

 

When Francis woke up this morning to see his soulmate laughing, he didn’t exactly expect to find her hugging another man. But there she was, hugging a strange man. He watched as they declared they missed each other…

Jealousy was not a new feeling for the French King of Diamonds. His sisters were free to do as they pleased, their heads unburdened by Royal responsibilities. His Vargas cousin Luciano was happily married. His Ace Bram and his cousin Rochelle were, as of yesterday, parents to a healthy baby boy named Etienne. But the people Francis envied most were the ones closest to Arth— _him_. Because how was it fair that _he_ was so nice to others when _he_ was so nasty to Francis? It… _stung_.

Funnily enough, this new spike of jealousy reminded Francis of the whole affair with the former Queen of Spades. Yes, Francis had always known that the old Queen wormed his way into Francis’s heart, and Francis had always fought it. After all, _he_ wasn’t Francis’s soulmate. But the more he stared at this woman who was _supposed_ to be his soulmate—

“Oh, you’re finally up,” he heard his soulmate interrupt in English. “How did you sleep?”

Francis nearly opened his mouth to respond, but he caught himself and just stared. There was a strategic reason that he never spoke in English: because most people figured that if you didn’t speak it, you didn’t understand it. And people are so much more willing to talk when they think you don’t understand what they’re saying. Even with _him_ Francis didn’t speak English. But _he_ refused to use French, and Francis refused to use English. So they spoke Spanish.

But somehow, some way, his soulmate _knew_ he understood English. And _also_ knew that he didn’t want people to know that. So she kept talking, as if she hadn’t actually been expecting a response.

“Francis,” and Francis’s brain stopped right there. Not even _he_ had ever said Francis’s name. “I’d like you to meet Alistair Kirkland. Alistair, this is my soulmate.”

Alistair gave Francis a onceover, a completely stoic expression. Now in the back of his mind, Francis felt as if he should have found the intense gaze thrilling and attractive. But all he felt was genuine nervousness, like he actually wanted Alistair to approve of him.

Wait... _Kirkland?!_

“Take care of Rosie,” he finally growled. And again, that Scottish brogue should have been giving Francis pleasant shivers down his spine. But _these_ shivers weren't pleasant.

At _all_.

“ _I don’t speak English_ ,” Francis finally managed.

“ _And I don’t care_ ,” Alistair shot back. “ _You_ _will_ _take care of her_.”

Francis, caught off guard by the French outburst, was grateful for his sister interrupting.

(He wouldn’t be, in a few seconds.)

“ _Mon frere!_ ” Thérèse cried. “ _There you are! I am positively_ _starving_.”

And poor Francis had about two seconds of warning before his sister turned to the newcomer Scotsman.

“ _Oh, hellooo~_ ” she purred in French. “ _And who might you be?_ ”

Alistair took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Your knight in shining _amour_ , _chérie_.”

And as the words on both their wrists turned scarlet, Francis turned to look at his own soulmate. Only to find that the horror in her eyes matched the horror curling in his own stomach.

 _Oh dear God why_...


End file.
